Inquiring Minds
by C. Night
Summary: No one ever said being Harry Potter’s girlfriend was going to be easy, but after 7 months at it one sly Slytherin thought she’d mastered it... that was until she was forced to explain their relationship to the inquiring minds of the Order.
1. Sleeping Beauty

Author: C. Night

Rating: PG-13

Category: Romance/ Angst/ Action& Adventure

Disclaimer: As a Harry Potter fan I trust that you can recognize what belongs in the series and what doesn't. Anything in the HP series belongs to JKR and a series of other very privileged people, I do not take credit for them. As for people, events, and places of my own invention...I will let you borrow them if you ask nicely. :)

Author's Notes: Ladies and gentlemen, it is with great pleasure and _Dumbledore-ish-ly twinkling eyes_ that I present to you the first chapter of another roller coaster ride of a story that I've come up with. I solemnly swear that in this story there will be enough cliff hangers, laughter, and sarcastic remarks to make reading it time well spent. ::sigh:: It's nice to be back. **If you are wondering about Diary of a Tainted Aristocrat please see my profile for a nice neat explanation of everything. **Thanks.

To the newcomers, **this is a sequel of sorts**, but it can be read alone, but there will be some confusion. Not much, but enough that **_I would recommend that you read my first story Getting Out or Dying Tying first._**

_Special thanks_ to my wonderful beta reader, thesteffis, who has daringly swooped in and saved us all from the deadly swarm of terrifying grammatical and spelling mistakes and mobs of terribly worded sentences that once roamed the pages of this chapter. Though we are all eternally grateful to our hero, I ask that you please hold your applause. :P

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Title: Inquiring Minds

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We are strange and beautiful asleep; for we are dying of the darkness and we know no death.

_-Thomas Wolfe_

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Chapter 1: Sleeping Beauty

All it took was the wave of a wand to bring the dark hallway to light. All it took was the gentle whispers of two cloaks to bring that very same dark corridor to life. All it took was one figure, bathed in shadow, to make that hallway seem so much more ominous.

And it all took was a second, slightly smaller figure, trailing slowly after the first, to make any who happened to see the sight of that corridor and the two in it immediately sympathetic.

A tall, stern-looking woman marched ahead of a young girl, who seemed to amble down the passageway in her wake, just as a lost soul wanders aimless through the afterlife.

The marching woman wore high heels which hit the marble floor with a force and precision that seemed lethal.

_Clump, Clump, Clump! _

The girl seemed dazed and preoccupied - not even daring to look up at the woman she was following. She was, instead, lost in her own thoughts and vaguely following the gunshot-like clumping of the heels.

After a few minutes, the young woman shook her head as if to clear cobwebs away and idly noticed the light padding of her trainers on the solid floor of the corridor - a stark contrast to the hammering in her chest and to the blasting clap of the pointed heels of the witch in front of her.

For the first time in her life, she felt completely flustered and harassed.

Completely and utterly _out of control_.

Usually during the school year she made it a point to never allow one hair on her head to fall out of place, to never allow herself to appear inept, and to never let anyone see her at anything less than her best.

But as the girl approached the stone gargoyle guarding the entrance to the Headmaster's office, she noted to herself that she had failed miserably.

Her hair was a tangled mass of curly black strands, clinging to the sweat on her face and the blood sticking thickly to her forehead. The young lady's school robes were torn slightly at various places and a rather large bruise was forming on her pale, yet beautiful, face.

Professor McGonagall, esteemed Transfiguration teacher at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, seemed to scowl as she whispered, "Canary Creams," at the gargoyle.

She and the young lady trailing her stepped aboard the spiraling staircase to Headmaster Dumbledore's office, and the girl moved her blood-covered hand to swipe at her muddled black locks.

She stared intently at the Transfiguration Professor as they spiraled with the staircase, sighing in relief when she realized that the jarring pounding of her Professor's heels on the floor had ceased.

As she twirled her dirty hair around her fingers she pondered things idly, 'I should just use my wand to clean myself up, but maybe there's some kind of magical build up from the spell combinations? I should ask Professor Mc Gonagalll.'

The girl opened her mouth to do just that when another though stopped her, 'Seeing as the damned teacher hasn't even really looked at me once since she burst into the-'

The girl then made it a point to re-direct her thinking to something - _anything_ - else.

The young woman began to mentally prepare herself for what was sure to be the most demanding, tiring, excruciatingly examining ordeal of her life. Though McGonagall had not yet told her anything, she knew what was to be expected. She was going to have to explain herself, and her relationship, to Merlin-only-knew how many people.

But one thing she did know was that they were all going to object to the relationship. There was no need to even doubt the facts.

This was Harry-bloody!-Potter we were talking about after all, right? Of course they wouldn't want their savior dating the daughter of a Death Eater, the fiancé - or perhaps that was now _former_ fiancée - of a Death Eater to be.

Honestly, the fact that she was engaged should have been enough to make them steer Harry away from her, but no... let's add traditionally tied to the Dark Arts to the list as well, shall we?

_'_Damn it all to' she began to think to herself.

The thought was interrupted by very ominous noise.

_Knock_, _knock_.

Somehow, in no time at all, the girl found herself and the Professor already at the large mahogany door of the Headmaster's office.

Professor McGonagall lifted her hand to rap at the door again, with no hesitation, and for a moment she had the crazy urge to snatch the woman's wrist, slam her head into the stone wall leading up the passage, and run away like a madwoman.

But before she could start to raise her arm-

"Enter," came the solemn voice of Professor Dumbledore and simply by his tone, she knew that there was no escape.

The Headmaster wanted to hear this story and she was the only person who could tell it to him.

Merlin, this was going to be difficult.

She stepped through the threshold of Professor Dumbledore's office and felt something sweep over her quickly.

Most who walked through that door would not have noticed it, but unlike most others, this young Slytherin had a very firm command of the magic that swept through her veins and she could feel it when an outside source of magic even brushed her skin.

She quickly listed in her mind the types of spell one would layer a doorway with, but before she could finish, her thoughts were interrupted by the very noticeable changes to the décor of the room.

As this girl had been in the Headmaster's domain many a time, she had become quite accustomed to the quaint little office.

Now, however, it had been expanded into a rather large, rectangular room. The Headmaster's desk, along with his shelves of knick-knacks and cabinet of secret whispering contraptions, had all been moved to one side of the room, out of the way, along with Fawkes and his perch.

In the center of the room, its back facing the girl, was a very plush, very cozy looking armchair. In front of the armchair was a small round table which held a large oval basin that looked eerily similar to a Pensieve.

She stared at it for a long moment before she noticed the chairs that Professor McGonagall had begun to conjure up all around the room. They were not nearly as opulent as the chair in the center, but nonetheless, they were obviously going to soon have people sitting in them. That fact alone was enough to make the witch a bit more anxious than she had been previous to their conjuring.

Before she could even begin to count the number of seats she was conjuring, or take note of the way the Professor was arranging them around the fancy chair in the center - she knew there was a pattern there somewhere - the girl was brought out of her musings by the Headmaster's voice.

"My dear," his willowy voice said sadly from his position at one of the windows, "I do believe you've had quite the evening."

The girl stared at the Headmaster's back as he silently gazed out the window and nodded her head.

Indeed, the evening had easily been the most exciting, dangerous, and craziest of her life.

The old mage began to pace along the far wall of the office, where five tall windows had been placed. He continued to speak to the girl without looking at her, as seemed to be the trend of the evening. "But, I am afraid, child, that because Harry is quite unavailable at the moment, you are going to have to be the one to explain everything to us."

'So this was it then?' She thought angrily.

He was going to sit her down, invite about thirty people – that was a guess as she hadn't been able to count all the seats yet - and then make her describe how her _entire_ world was turned on its axis by one boy in a matter of months, and then describe how in turn she had driven that boy to...

'I am not recalling that moment,' she thought stubbornly. 'That is not the Harry I know, not the Harry I...'

Hundreds of times she had stopped herself from finishing thoughts like that one. Thousands of times she had told herself to stop dramatizing the simple feelings of the average sixteen year old in a relationship, but for the first time on this evening of revolution and rash judgments, she let herself finish the thought.

"Love," she accidentally said aloud, immediately following it up with a relieved sigh.

Her eyes widened comically at her stupidity. She could not believe she had vocalized her thoughts, and quite loudly at that.

At the word, Professor Dumbledore ended his pacing and whirled around to face her. Her looked as if he was about to say something, but instead his eyes roved over her body quickly, widening slightly as they scanned.

The Headmaster seemed to pause for a moment before stepping closer to her, his hands opening in what might have been a hug, but her expression halted that progression dead in its tracks.

Instead, he settled on saying, "Good heavens, child! Perhaps the evening had been harder on you than I had anticipated."

Before the girl could respond, Dumbledore had turned to Professor McGonagall and gently chided, "Minerva! Could you of not taken our young charge down to the Infirmary before marching her up here?"

Professor McGonagall, who had been making several adjustments to the room, paused and looked at the girl properly for the first time. Her eyes softened and remorse seemed to spread across her face like lava erupting from a single point around her eyes.

She opened her mouth in apology, but the girl simply stopped the mindless blithering of regret before it began, "It's fine," she said shortly.

'Harry would be proud of me,' she thought, 'I didn't even make a snide remark after I said that.'

Unfortunately, the thought distracted her enough to allow Professor McGonagall to give her a quick pat on the shoulder.

'I feel distinctly nauseous,' the girl thought while struggling not to let her face show the disgust she was feeling. 'Honestly, what was it with Gryffindors and all the touching?'

To this young woman, physical contact between friends was an unnecessary exertion of energy. In her view, the ability to express emotion verbally was one that should be valued highly and practiced frequently.

The only kind of touching she readily and easily accepted was that of the intimate variety. Only when caught in the clutches of desire, lust, and passion, did she encourage, savor and sometimes even _demand_ direct physical contact.

Otherwise - it was hands off the merchandise.

The girl sighed as McGonagall stared at her trying to gauge whether or not she was going to hex the woman's hand off for touching the teenager's shoulder. She decided not to, as the Professor had at least managed to refrain from hugging her.

Hugs were too coddling, for this proud snake of the dungeons, even in intimate situations. Lovers or not, she always found it preferable that everyone keep their anaconda-like arms to themselves.

Hugs, she had always thought, are some kind of slow suffocation...except those from Harry.

Kissing and hugging are completely different, and in her experience she had found that hugging implied some kind of mutual caring. It was a type of patient and indulgent adoration that she had never really felt for anyone, but the once detestable Potter.

The boy had broken all the rules when it came to her, and surprisingly she found herself yearning to fall into his warm, gentle, and capable arms right at that moment.

'I don't want to explain everything alone. I need you, Harry,' she thought not to herself but more pleading with the universe. As though in thinking it and admitting it to herself, she was able to send out some kind of signal to him that she needed him desperately.

Professor Dumbledore watched the young woman before him muse silently and his eyes twinkled at the thoughts raging through her mind frantically. It seemed to him that while Harry's taste in women had initially been an unexpected shock, learning more about their relationship was going to be a pleasant experience.

With that thought in mind, Professor Dumbledore reached over and placed one of his warm and worn hands on the girl's arms, bringing her back to reality.

The wise wizard checked her over for any other injuries outside of the obvious with a sweep of his electric-blue all-knowing eyes, as McGonagall returned to the organization of the office.

The Headmaster then took a step back and slowly took out his wand.

Reflexively, the girl noticed, she had flicked her wrist and allowed her wand to fall quickly to her hand.

The Professor's lips twitched a bit as she smiled a bit sheepishly at him. The Headmaster noted with a bit of sadness that the Slytherin kept the wand firmly in her hand.

After a moment, he seemed to resign himself to the fact that she obviously did not trust him implicitly, and nodded. Then, in a flash, his wand was waving, words were being mumbled and bright lights were racing across the room to the young witch.

Soon, her face was no longer bloody or bruising, her hair had been charmed clean - and in the process straight - and her blood-soaked outer-robes were- with their Slytherin crest and all- gone.

Overall, she was left standing in the Headmaster's newly revamped office in her pleated Hogwarts skirt, a crisp, pristine, white blouse with a clean face and straight hair.

Professor Dumbledore looked her up and down once more quickly before gesturing for her to take a seat.

She moved to sit in one of the wooden chairs McGonagall had created when Dumbledore stopped her by saying, "No, please, sit in the center if you would."

Her eyebrows shot into her hairline at his request and she didn't move an inch. She appeared to be trembling slightly in either anger or fear and both Professors watched her carefully as her mind seemed to almost visibly race across the room.

She knew there had to be a reason she was being asked to sit in the middle of the room.

It was as though she was being put on trial or facing an interrogation. The other chairs of the room were all arranged around the one Professor Dumbledore requested that she be seated in, and it didn't seem as though their arrangement was an accident.

She was tired, lonely, and more than anything else, scared.

She felt as though there was a fierce and stubborn lion residing in her soul, tearing away at the fabric of her very being. She was worried about Harry - more scared for him than she'd ever been - and this bastard of a Headmaster was asking her to put all that anxiety aside, and explain _all of their relationship_ to what seemed like the _entire_ bloody Order, in order to enable them to help Harry.

She didn't understand why she had to explain everything, sure it _could_ help a great deal, but it also could end up being a waste of time. It would make more sense to simply have to explain what happened _that night_ and see what could be gleaned from that. After all if it wasn't for the events of that night, they would probably still be keeping the relationship a secret.

The absolute truth was that while revealing the whole story to everyone who needed to know would be the right thing to do, it was beginning to wear on her… and they hadn't even started yet. And honestly, what did she care about "doing the right thing"?

She sighed loudly and decided not to do anything, yet. She sat down in the squishy chair and watched as the Headmaster waved his wand and all the chairs in the room became much more extravagant.

'Trust the Headmaster to take everything to the extreme,' she thought tiredly.

The young witch leaned back into her chair and closed her eyes. For a moment, silence reigned in the office, before it was intruded upon by the door slamming open.

Though she was essentially fine as far as her health was concerned, the young lady was still disgustingly jumpy.

At the slam, the girl flew out of her chair, in panic, and with her wand in hand, aimed it at the door.

Much to her surprise - and intense annoyance - she found herself faced with Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom.

All of Potter's most trusted Defense Association members were here to listen to her tell them all about how their little hero was currently lying in the Hospital Wing; actually it was probably St. Mungo's due to the severe nature of the injuries.

All of Potter's best friends were so _graciously_ in attendance to hear the tale of how he was corrupted by the evil Slytherin bitch.

The girl didn't want to tell anyone the story of her relationship with Potter - let alone the five people who she knew were going to be on her back about _everything_ that had happened, before she could even finish a sentence. She could, she knew, trust Granger to nitpick every little damn thing that went wrong.

The young witch seemed not to realize that as her thoughts were racing, her wand was still pointing directly at the heart of a startled and highly confused Ron Wealsey. Professor Dumbledore, sensing Ron's silent plea for help, calmly walked over to the girl and lowered her arm slowly.

He seemed to be able to sense her nervousness and annoyance at having to explain herself to a group of people who were already glaring at her with suspicion and anger in their eyes.

The Headmaster whispered to her, "You won't have to say a word, but nonetheless I am afraid that you will be explaining everything about your relationship with Harry to them."

The teen's eyebrows furrowed in confusion and Professor Dumbledore let her ponder that one for a moment.

Ron Weasley, however was not doing any pondering. He had questions and he was ready to demand answers. The angry redhead opened his mouth widely at first to yell out an inquiry when his girlfriend, Hermione Granger, elbowed him in the ribs. After he finished squawking indignantly about it, she indicated to him that he should _quietly_ ask McGonagall his question.

Ron could see it in his girlfriend's eyes that she was dying to know the answer to his question as well, and took that to mean that it wasn't a stupid query at all.

So Ron Weasley opened his mouth and, remembering Hermione's plea to be quiet, whispered to McGonagall, "Who is she and what is she doing here?"

Professor McGonagall simply stared at them wide-eyed, seemingly shocked that Harry had kept so much from his friends, and that even brilliant, bookish Granger hadn't the slightest clue as to why this young girl not only had the right to be present for this little meeting, but was going to be the main source of information on their best friend's condition.

The Transfiguration Professor forcibly lifted her jaw off the floor and quickly responded that the five students would find out the answers to all of their questions when everyone else had arrived.

The young Slytherin sitting in the center of the room rubbed at her eyes tiredly and leaned into the soft lining of her chair.

Professor Dumbledore smiled benignly over the top of his half moon glasses as he watched the girl doze off. He smoothly took out his wand, pointed to the young lady, and muttered a few words.

'It's better this way,' he thought. 'Now once she gets up we can get this all over with.'

Taking advantage of her slumber, Dumbledore excused himself from his office and retreated to his chambers where he proceeded to make a few fire-calls. When he walked back into his office five minutes later, Remus Lupin was already stepping out of the fire place.

Remus looked worn and anxious and the first words out of his mouth were, "How's Harry?"

Unfortunately, the Headmaster was unable to say a word as the fire lit up emerald-green once more and out spewed Arthur Weasley, soon followed by Bill, Charlie, and Molly, all of whom appeared to have dressed hurriedly and hopped into the fire.

Inquiries on Harry's health, location, and general mental state swarmed the Headmaster like bees on honey, but he easily deflected all of them with a single proclamation.

"Come in, come in, and sit down," Professor Dumbledore greeted the entire room which was rapidly filling with Aurors, Ministry officials, and various others. "All will be explained once everyone else is here, but for now, would anyone care for a lemon drop?"

The assembled group either sighed or rolled their eyes. After all, seeing as they were all members of the Order of the Phoenix, of which Albus Dumbledore was leader, and had, by now, become accustomed to his evasion tactics.

They knew it could be anywhere from hours to seconds until they got their answers, so they chose to simply find somewhere to sit and mutter to each other - all of them making predictions on where Harry was and how he had gotten there.

Among the assembled, Ron Weasley was certainly not one praised for his enduring patience. He shot frequent, perturbed glances at the lightly dosing girl in the center of the room. He knew that she must be a student at the school as she wore the uniform, but sadly admitted to himself that he had no idea who she was.

Curious and bored by the mutterings of the adults around him, he turned to Hermione, distracting her from her incessant gnawing at her finger nails.

"Who is that girl anyway, Mione?" he asked her quietly.

Hermione Granger's hands flew from her mouth and her eyes narrowed, "_Honestly,_ Ron!" she scolded in a voice Ron knew all too well, "you've only had Potions and Care of Magical Creatures with the girl for the past _six years_."

"Alright," Ron muttered, annoyed. "When you put it like that it sounds really bad that I don't know who she is."

Hermione harrumphed angrily before sighing and resuming her nervous fingernail biting.

Ron watched fascinated for a moment before he took notice of something. "Professor Dumbledore?" he questioned the aged Headmaster, who was walking around the room with a crystal urn full to the brim with lemon drops. "Who are we waiting for? It seems like everyone who should be here already is…"

"... and even some who shouldn't be here," Ron added darkly to himself while simultaneously grabbing a handful of sweets and shooting a dark glare at the napping Slytherin in the center of the room.

Professor Dumbledore's eyes twinkled amusedly as he intoned in a jolly voice back to Ron, "I'm afraid that there are a few more guests we must wait for before we may awaken our Sleeping Beauty, and hear her tale."

Before Ron could respond, Dumbledore had ambled away, pressing some lemon drops into the hands of a pale and worn looking Professor McGonagall as he went.

"Sleeping Beauty?" he muttered to himself quietly, "What on Earth was he on about?"

It wasn't hard for Ron to figure out that Dumbledore was referring to the mystery girl sitting in the center of the room _sleeping_, but _beauty_?

The redhead turned to the girl's figure and gave her his full attention. He could not see all of her, but her face was turned toward him and he was able to study her features extensively, content with the knowledge that she wouldn't know he was staring.

She had a perfectly oval shaped face and delicately carved eyebrows. Her skin was clear and she had an even tan, which made her dark hair stand out a bit less than it would have, had her face been as pale as Harry's.

She had medium-sized lips which were parted in what looked like a continual sigh, and every now and then, her mouth would close tightly and her forehead would crease as though she was having a nightmare.

The most striking thing about her that Ron could see was easily her hair. Ram-board straight and draping past her shoulders, it seemed to shimmer in the flickering candle-light of the office.

Every now and then the girl would shift in her sleep and strands of midnight black silk would move in front of her pink lips or over her lightly closed eyelids and Ron had the sudden urge to move closer to her. To tuck those errant strands away behind her ear and off her eyelids, to delicately pluck the locks off her lips and-

"_Still_ trying to figure out who she is?"

Ron's dangerous thoughts were interrupted by Hermione's faintly annoyed voice. He coughed loudly in his shock, causing a few people to turn and stare at him, before he listlessly and needlessly straightened his sweater and turned to his girlfriend, twisting his face into what he hoped was an expression of innocent incredulity.

Having lived with Fred and George's trouble-making tendencies for so long, the youngest male Weasley was well aware that looking perfectly innocent was, more often than not, _exactly_ what got you caught. And, he knew, Hermione was far too smart a witch to fall for an attempt at puppy-dog eyes.

Ron stared at Hermione, as he tried to concoct the perfect facial expression. His girlfriend was beautiful in her own way, he noted to himself.

Her hair was still the same mousy brown as ever, but instead of trying to fight to bushy mass, she had taken to embracing its frizzy style and applying tiny bits of Sleekeasy's Frizz Reducer to it daily. While it ended up nowhere near as straight as it had been for the Yule Ball in their fourth year, the brown curls had become a stylish array of waves atop an absolutely brilliant mind.

"If you still don't know who she is, I'll tell you, but honestly, Ron, you should really get to know our classmates better, even if she is a Slytherin. It doesn't mean that-"

"A SLYTHERIN!" Ron yelled, interrupting Hermione's speech on inter-house and school-wide friendships. His girlfriend's eyes narrowed in annoyance as he continued on his tirade, but in more docile tones, "What do you mean a Slytherin? Why on earth would she be here if she's in Slytherin? Unless..." Ron continued with narrowing eyes, "_she_ is the reason Harry isn't here. The reason he might be hurt, the reason he could be-"

"SHHH!" Hermione said annoyed, but this time it was not to keep Ron at a manageable volume, but to keep him from speaking at all.

"Don't you dare," Hermione began in low dangerous tones, "make such vile assumptions about Harry's well-being. He isn't here, but we'll find out why, Ron, without any ridiculous assumptions along the way!"

Amazingly, Hermione had managed to yell at Ron and get to her feet in indignation without raising her voice even once. But, in the process, she had captured the attention of everyone else in the room.

Ron was staring at her with something akin to fright in his eyes and his mouth set in a grim line. He opened his mouth to say something that would undoubtedly get Hermione even angrier with him when he was interrupted by a smooth baritone from the doorway of Dumbledore's office.

"Well, well ,well," the voice began mockingly, "trouble in paradise? And here I thought the Weasel and-" there was a pause here as the owner of the voice glanced around the room, "-Mud-Granger would be strolling obliviously down lover's lane as usual."

Hermione's eyes narrowed even further and Ron jumped up to stand beside his girlfriend, "What are you doing here, Malfoy?"

Draco Malfoy narrowed his eyes and his lips twisted into a smirk. For a moment, Ron was distracted by those lips. Pink, medium sized lips that looked very familiar. He snapped his head around and stared at the girl who was still sleeping despite everything going on, and looked back at Malfoy.

"You have the same mouth!" Ron exclaimed in triumph, not realizing how bizarre his statement sounded.

Malfoy's silver-grey eyes widened in shock before he quickly hid the expression. "Got it in one, Weasely. This must be a first for you, someone quick! We must mark down this historical event!"

"Let's hear a productive response, Malfoy," Hermione demanded before Malfoy could continue his dramatization.

"Yes, I am indeed here for my cousin, and that's all I need to tell the likes of you," Malfoy continued staring at Hermione with abject disgust on his face.

Luna, Neville and Ginny who had until that point kept quiet jumped up in Hermione's defense. Malfoy found himself on defense - taking on five classmates alone - but proudly stood his ground, trading insults with stinging speed and cruelty.

While the six exchanged petty insults and repetitive comments, Malfoy didn't even realize his well-being was protected by a certain Molly Weasley.

Mrs. Weasley had a hand on her husband's arm, restraining him from jumping on the Malfoy heir and demanding that he disclose the location of his father, who was still very high up on the list of known Death Eaters at large.

Unfortunately, that restraining arm did not extend to Ronald Weasley, who was growing impatient, worried for Harry and annoyed with Malfoy. "The likes of her, eh? Let me tell you something, Malfoy. One of Hermione's nose hairs is worth more than-"

"Nose hairs, Weasel? Really? I had been unaware that the Mudblood was growing a bit of fuzz in the nasal cavity, but thank you ever so much for that valuable information," Malfoy bit back scathingly.

"HOW DARE YOU CALL HER THAT!" Ron yelled as he advanced on Malfoy, wand raised offensively. Many of the adults in the room were rising from their chairs, wands out and prepared to stun one or both of the boys before things got out of hand, though many had their wands aimed simply at the pale Slytherin.

The vile term he had used had not gone unnoticed by the Order members loitering about the room, and it seemed as though young Draco was going to learn a thing or two.

Remus Lupin was one of the few in the room who had remained seated. His concern for Harry was paramount over all else at this point. As Harry's surrogate god-father Remus cared a great deal for the young wizard and at the moment was feeling a fierce protectiveness for the mysteriously absent boy.

Remus's eyes flitted across the room searching for Dumbledore to put an end to the meaningless bickering and get straight to the point of the meeting. He, like Ron, was beginning to grow very curious as to why the dozing Slytherin was in attendance.

However, as she was a former student of his, Remus understood that the often times aloof girl was brilliant in terms of her speedy spell casting and ability to observe and read people.

Though he didn't see her purpose immediately, he could certainly think of a few good reasons as to why the Headmaster may want her there. She was a Slytherin after all, and if Harry's disappearance - that was all he knew so far - had something to do with a Slytherin, who better to speak with than another dungeon-dweller?

That would also explain the presence of Draco Malfoy, though Remus found it curious that the boy had said he was 'there for his cousin', which would refute his entire theory.

Remus sighed loudly and continued searching through the small sea of people for the Headmaster. It took a moment, but Remus realized that at some point, the old wizard had snuck out of the room and was no where to be found.

Stifling what would have been a small growl, Remus got to his feet swiftly and let out a booming _BANG! _with his wand. Once he had the attention of the entire room, he said, "I believe it would be best if we all took our seats and stopped this _childish_ behavior."

With a bit of grumbling, everyone moved to sit down. Draco, however, moved to go speak with his cousin who oddly still had her eyes closed. Remus watched with fascination as Draco reached to within about a foot of the girl, but was suddenly pushed back by some type of force field.

The boy began to call her name gently at first, but then louder, as it appeared that she couldn't hear anything inside her invisible bubble.

Just when Draco began to reach for his wand, the door to the office slammed open and in strolled Professor Dumbledore, followed by a sour looking Severus Snape.

Dumbledore seemed a bit surprised to see everyone seated and fairly quiet, but immediately he turned to Remus and gave him a proud sort of smile.

'How does that man know everything?' Remus wondered idly, 'Yes, Legilimecy is part of it, but there has to be more than that.'

But that mystery would remain so for another day as Remus was distracted by

Dumbledore saying, "Mr. Malfoy, I assure you that your cousin is perfectly all right, but please, stand back a moment." Draco glared a bit at the Headmaster, but obeyed silently.

The entire group watched as Dumbledore took out his wand and waved it in a circular motion over the top of the girl's head. A faint green light seemed to shine in a spherical form around her before it dissipated in a series of fizzling sounds.

The young witch just released from the bubble appeared to awake instantly and the room watched with curious fascination as she sat up straight and with her eyes still closed, ran her hand through her long locks.

Her slender hand seemed to pause halfway down and only a few in the room knew it was because her usually curly hair was straight. Her brown eyes flew open and she seemed alarmed at the number of people who had entered the room while she had slept. Her eyes finally settled on the Headmaster, who smiled gently at her in a way that seemed to say _'Let me handle this.'_

"This young witch," Dumbledore began, "as I am sure many of you are wondering, is here tonight as our main source of information on Harry's condition this evening."

The assembled witches and wizards seemed to simultaneously hold their breath.

"May I introduce," Professor Dumbledore continued unaffectedly, "Miss Blaise Zabini, a proud student of the Slytherin House..."

A few eyes widened in surprise at her house, but no one could predict the reaction that would come when the Headmaster finished his statement.

"...and the girlfriend of seven months to our very own Mr. Potter."

Pandemonium did not even begin to describe it.

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End Chapter 1

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Author's Notes: Please don't forget to let me know what you think. Reviews are so very nice and I really appreciate them. There will be more plot development in the next chapter, and never fear, in time you will get some idea of what happened to Harry. Thanks for reading. _Please Review!_

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	2. Brain Freeze

Author: C. Night  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Category: Romance/Angst/ Action& Adventure  
  
Disclaimer: I own anything you don't recognize; the rest is JKR's (no copyright infringement intended). And I will let you borrow my stuff if you ask nicely. :)  
  
Author's Notes: The title of this chapter is actually very appropriate in describing exactly what happened every time I sat down to write it. Needless to say, I am very sorry about the delay, and I hope you all enjoy it. To those of you wonderful souls who did so - thank you for reviewing. Sadly, I cannot answer all of the reviews individually, but if you have any specific questions or concerns feel free to ask them and I will make sure to either address them in the story itself or answer them at the end of the next chapter. Thanks again!  
  
Ah, and for those of you who are interested, Blaise Zabini's actual sex was confirmed at last by JKR herself. Ladies and gentlemen, our favorite Slytherin and the heroine of my story is MALE. Can't say I am at all shocked. The name is a boy's name after all, as was mentioned in Getting Out when she told Harry she was named after her great uncle. Never fear, I have met enough girls with boy's names and boys with girl's names for this not to bother me at all. It does, however, annoy me that all that fun debating is over. JKR, you should have kept it a mystery!  
  
_Special thanks_ to my wonderful beta reader, thesteffis, who has yet again saved us all from plot deviations, spelling mistakes, and grammatical errors. I ask that all of you eternally grateful readers to continue to hold your applause for our savior, lest he develop a "hero complex". Thank you. :)

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Title: Inquiring Minds

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Speak when you are angry -- and you'll make the best speech you'll ever regret.  
- Laurence J. Peter

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Chapter 2: Brain Freeze  
  
A chorus of yells reverberated loudly throughout the Headmaster's office at the same exact moment that, for the first time in her life, Hermione Granger's mind simply couldn't wrap itself around an idea.  
  
It felt as though her brain, which was constantly abuzz with life and energy, thoughts flying this way and that - had suddenly been unplugged.  
  
Vaguely, she registered that both Ron and Ginny had shot up from their seats and were shouting at Professor Dumbledore and a wide-eyed Blaise Zabini.  
  
Blaise, for her part, seemed to stare at the Headmaster in what looked to be an abject refusal to believe that he had just said what he had in such a manner. It was evident, through her tight-lipped stare and clenched fists, that the girl was repressing the urge to strike the old wizard with all her might.  
  
Remus, Hermione noted, looked distinctly stricken. It only took her a moment to realize that his expression was probably mirrored exactly on her own face.  
  
The only thing she could think was 'How could he not tell us?'  
  
'It isn't so much the fact that Harry has a girlfriend' Hermione thought slowly, though the idea itself was indeed bizarre.  
  
'It's more the fact that for some reason he decided that he didn't want to tell his best friends and his... Remus - that he had been steadily seeing someone for months,' the bookish girl concluded to herself.  
  
It stung. In fact it hurt like a bitch, but Hermione wasn't about to voice that. Instead she got her brain back in gear and started to do some intense examining.  
  
The first person she looked to was Professor McGonagall, who was sucking very slowly at a lemon drop and looking not in the least bit surprised. Professor Snape was sitting near the Transfiguration teacher, and though he had a distinct look of disgust upon his face, he showed no signs of surprise either.  
  
'So they knew,' Hermione thought, 'He told Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall and Snape and not, Ron, Remus, myself, or... anyone else here.'  
  
'It just doesn't add up!' she screamed inside her head, utterly frustrated with the idea that her best friend had been keeping secrets.  
  
Her ears seemed to suddenly begin working again and she heard Professor Dumbledore trying, without success, to get everyone to sit back down and allow for an explanation.  
  
Working on auto-pilot, she got up from her seat and dragged Ron away from where he was yelling into the expressionless face of Blaise Zabini, and pushed him into a seat between herself and Ginny.  
  
She placed a hand on Ron's knee and gently traced small circles on the fabric of his pant leg. Almost immediately Ron's yelling and arguing ceased and he was transfixed by the calming touch.  
  
Hermione was doing it mainly to keep him quiet, but after a moment she found it to be oddly comforting to herself as well - to be able to feel that though Harry had apparently drifted away from her at some point during the year, she still had one best friend who was right there, easily accessible and in the flesh.  
  
With Ron's loud squawking having finally been silenced, the room was filled only with the angry murmuring of adults, and Blaise found that she preferred the Weasel's yammering to the lynch-mob style muttering of the Order.  
  
Still, there was nothing she could do but sigh, tuck her oddly straight hair behind her ears, and try to ignore the disbelieving stares Draco had been giving her since the proclamation had been made.  
  
"If you will all cease your pointless grumbling, I am sure the Headmaster has more to say," Blaise's godfather finally said in his deceptively silky and dangerously quiet voice.  
  
The girl's love for him increased about ten-fold in that moment, for the angry whispers did, indeed, cease.  
  
The Headmaster sent a slight smile in the direction of the Potions Master who responded with a simple nod. "Thank you, Severus," the old wizard said with a bit of a tired note to his voice. "There is indeed, much more to be said."  
  
The assembled group of witches and wizards watched as the weary old man stood behind Blaise's chair, his weathered hands resting on its back. The motion was clearly in her defense and she wondered exactly what he was going to say next.  
  
"It would do well to remember we are, unfortunately, in the middle of a war. A terrible and deadly war in which both Mr. Potter and Ms. Zabini are expected to fight on opposite sides," the Headmaster began.  
  
"Though it may not make immediate sense to you, I ask that you try to sympathize with their situation, and open your minds to the idea that they chose to keep you in the dark, not to hurt you, but perhaps for the simple reason of keeping each other, and yourselves, safe."  
  
There was a moment of silence before the incredulous voice of Ron Weasley was heard.  
  
"But, Professor, seven months?" came the loud and obviously incredulous reply. "We're supposed to be his best mates, and he decides not to tell us of his relationship with... that Slytherin... at all. Not even the slightest hint? That doesn't sound like the Harry I know."  
  
Several murmurs of agreement came from various parts of the room. Soon many were speculating on what had happened to Harry to make him become so secretive and withdrawn. Many eyes turned to Blaise as the reason for Harry's sudden persona shift.  
  
Blaise could not believe her ears. She had had just about enough.  
  
"Are you people absolutely mad or just plain stupid?" she said, irritated that she was under scrutiny by the supposedly intelligent minds of the Order of the Phoenix. "Harry was trying to protect all of you, trying to keep you out of the crossfire we knew our relationship was going to cause. The crossfire it already has caused. So yes, maybe it doesn't sound like the Harry you know, but could it be that he was learning from his mistakes, trying to be better for all of you? Did it ever occur to you that what he was doing was necessary? Commendable even?  
  
"After all, he was practicing the Order's standard policy of need-to-know, was he not? He spent hours agonizing over whether he should tell all of you, but every time he thought the idea through to conclusion, it seemed as though it was a straight ticket to hurt feelings and pain. Harry nearly drove himself crazy with guilt, only to have you be upset with him? Merlin! If he was here to have to listen to all of you complaining about it, it would tear him apart!" Here she paused and made a noise faintly similar to that of a cat hacking at a hairball lodged in its throat as she shook her head slowly.  
  
"How dare you accuse him of anything other than loving all of you with every fiber of his being!" Blaise concluded bitingly.  
  
Her eyes had narrowed during her little tirade, but she did not raise her voice or move an inch. The Order was, for a moment, hypnotized by the voice of the furious yet extremely self-controlled girl scolding them.  
  
"Well put, Miss Zabini," Professor Dumbledore said from his position behind her chair, but they both noted that many were still obviously unconvinced.  
  
"Though, moving on, in order for us to determine the exact cause of Harry's current state and how he can be revived, it is necessary for us to closely examine the relationship between himself and Miss Zabini," the Headmaster continued.  
  
"Why?" came the curious voice of Hermione Granger. If one looked closely enough, it was becoming quite obvious that Blaise was beginning to tense in her seat.  
  
"Harry's current location, as of right now, is St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries," the Headmaster began with a resigned sigh.  
  
The declaration brought forth a flurry of action. Remus, who had still been taking in the action occurring around him in a frozen state of shock, was jolted out of his silent observation and along with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, rose to head immediately to St. Mungo's.  
  
Professor Dumbledore, however, stopped them by saying, "As of right now, I am afraid there is nothing anyone can do for him."  
  
Remus halted abruptly and lifted his head slowly to stare directly into the Headmaster's sky blue eyes, "Don't you mean there is nothing we can do for him? Surely the Healers are working on whatever is wrong with him?"  
  
"No, Remus," the wise old man said as he moved to stand closer to the werewolf. "I'm afraid that Harry is the victim to a very rare enchantment of some form. Until we can at least determine the extent of the charm, attempting any reversal spells could be extremely detrimental to his health."  
  
The attention of the room was distracted from the rapidly paling Remus, who appeared to be trying to swallow a lump in his throat, by Hermione Granger, who had let out a strangled gasp.  
  
Her hands flew to her mouth and she began to gnaw at her fingernails with ferocity. Ron could practically see her mentally filing through all of the enchantments she knew, trying to guess which one Harry had fallen victim to.  
  
Apparently, Professor Dumbledore could see what she was trying to do as well. "I am sorry, my dear," the aged Headmaster said sadly, "but I am afraid that the style of the curse and all the revealing spells we have tried on it have enlightened us only to the fact that the spell was most likely developed as far back as the Age of the Founders."  
  
"The knowledge of that time period, we had thought, was lost to us all; however, the Acclarocantio spell does not lie, and the only thing we were able to determine from the usually quite informative spell, was the enchantment's rough date of origin. We have no inkling as of yet what the incantation for the spell is, what it is doing to Harry, who cast it, and most importantly, how to reverse it."  
  
Ginny let out a sigh that sounded very much like a sob and Neville Longbottom reached his hand across the lap of the static Luna Lovegood to give the youngest Weasley's hand a squeeze. Neville knew that no matter how much she claimed she was "long over" Harry, and no matter how many new boyfriends she paraded around the Common Room (much to Ron's annoyance), Ginny Weasley would always have a special place in her heart for Harry Potter.  
  
Whether she held that place for the daring young man who had rescued her from the Chamber of Secrets, or for her first and only love, he did not know.  
  
Taking into consideration the cold stares she was sending in the direction of that Blaise Zabini girl, Neville was willing to bet that at the very least, it was a combination of both.  
  
But for the sakes of Harry, Ginny's current boyfriend Dean, Zabini, and Ginny herself, Neville sincerely hoped that he was mistaken.  
  
The kind Gryffindor felt Ginny squeeze his hand tightly back before she stood rather abruptly, and angrily marched the short distance to the chair in which Blaise was sitting.  
  
Carefully squeezing herself in the space between the round table in front of Blaise's chair and the girl herself, the redhead leaned forward a bit, placed her hands on the arms of the plush chair, narrowed her eyes, and looked down at the Slytherin mercilessly. A trick she'd learned from her mother, the glare of a Female Weasley was a surefire way to force something out of even the most stubborn of people.  
  
"Alright then," Ginny began snottily, "tell us what you know."  
  
"Virginia Weasley!" her mother cried indignantly, "Behave yourself or no matter what Professor Dumbledore says, I will have you return to the Gryffindor Common Room faster than you can say 'Hippogriff Medley'!"  
  
Ginny at least had the grace to look a bit ashamed as she slowly stood tall and removed her hands from the Slytherin's chair. The hot-headed young teen did not, however, move from her position in front of the seated girl.  
  
The room was silent for a moment before the gruff voice of Mad-Eye Moody said to Blaise, "The lady has a point. The sooner you tell us what you know, the sooner we can act. If Potter needs our help, sitting around here talking in circles won't get us, or him, anywhere."  
  
Surprisingly, Blaise found herself looking to the Headmaster, who smiled at her benignly over his half-moon glasses. Though the ever-present twinkle was clearly present in his eyes, the aged wizard did not say a word. He simply walked over to the round table positioned slightly in front of Blaise's chair, and gestured to the wooden oval basin resting in the center of the table.  
  
The wooden container had intricate carvings of runes etched along the sides and Blaise noticed that when she stared at them for a long enough period of time, they seemed to shimmer before her eyes.  
  
A fascinating effect, and for the first time since third year, Blaise found herself wishing she had taken Ancient Runes instead of Arithmancy.  
  
Professor Dumbledore's voice brought her back to reality. "What you see before you," the Headmaster said to the assembled witches and wizards, "is an ancient tool by the name of a Perlustrare."  
  
Several Order members started muttering to each other at the announcement, and Hermione Granger stared at Blaise with wide eyes. Her mouth worked silently for a brief moment, before she began to whisper furiously to her irritating boyfriend, Loony, Longbottom, and the Weaslette.  
  
When the four separated, Blaise noted that both Weasleys were staring at her in a cross between shock and grim satisfaction. And it took every single bit of effort and pure Slytherin skill for the girl to keep her face expressionless.  
  
'Maybe I should just act like I know what I am about to do,' she thought, but then upon seeing the eyes of her godfather narrowing fiercely at the Headmaster, she decided that that idea may not be the best.  
  
Severus glared at Professor Dumbledore - openly - with the same ferocity he glared at Harry. It was not a good sign. Not good at all.  
  
Draco obviously did not know what a Perlustrare was either, as his eyes were darting around the room gauging reactions just as hers were.  
  
Blaise's eyes rested on the very pale blue orbs of Luna Lovegood, who for the first time, was looking at her with a vague sort of emotion in her eyes. Blaise couldn't remember the skittish Ravenclaw ever observing her with anything other than a vacant and eerily blank stare.  
  
If it wasn't a bad omen that Loony Lovegood was now staring at her with something akin to fascination in her eyes, she didn't know what was.  
  
She looked to the so-called "greatest wizard of the age" for an answer, and was surprised to find that he was staring not at her, but at what seemed like anything or anyone else.  
  
He was, of course, doing it very subtly, but Blaise wasn't a Slytherin for nothing. Much to Harry's annoyance, she could read body language almost as well as she could read Latin, which was indeed quite impressive.  
  
'He doesn't want to tell me,' she realized immediately. 'Professor "the- only-one Voldemort-ever-feared" Dumbledore can't look me in the eye and tell me what I am about to undertake.'  
  
"Sod it all to hell," she muttered under her breath, and much to her disgust she heard the Weasley snort - very much like a great fat pig - in response.  
  
"Well," Professor Dumbledore said, clearly addressing Blaise but still allowing his periwinkle eyes to wander around the room aimlessly. "For those of you that are unaware, a Perlustrare is a variant of the Pensieve. Both are receptacles used to hold memories. The main difference between them, however, is that while Pensieves hold thoughts for an indefinite period of time, a Perlustrare can only be used for a few hours. Additionally, unlike Pensieves, Perlustrares can only hold thoughts that deal with one main focus point."  
  
Finally, Draco interrupted. "Wait," he drawled ponderingly, seeming to forget for a moment that he was politely addressing the Headmaster - an occurrence that was unheard of in Draco's world.  
  
"Yes, Mr. Malfoy?" Dumbledore responded with a small smile at the blonde boy.  
  
It may have been her imagination, but Blaise thought the Headmaster's voice seemed a bit too relieved at the disruption for her taste.  
  
"If a Perlustrare can only be used for a few hours, what good is it? Why would you need to store someone's thoughts on only one topic for such a short time when with Pensieve, you could store as many as you wanted, related to as many ideas you had, and with no time limit?" Draco asked slowly.  
  
Hermione Granger smirked slightly before she opened her mouth to respond... only to be beat to the punch.  
  
"Because a Perlustrare's main function is not really to store memories for the later viewing, they are used to make the memories of one witch or wizard easily viewed by a group," a distant and flowing voice answered from the other side of the room.  
  
Draco furrowed his brow and Luna's faint voice continued, "They are commonly used in trials of the Wizengamot, which is where I assume the Headmaster got it from."  
  
Blaise saw the Headmaster's faint nod toward the Ravenclaw as he stood opposite the small table before her, and touched the sides of the Perlustrare. To Blaise, it looked as though the Headmaster was encouraging the bizarre girl to continue explaining.  
  
And so she did. "Witnesses to the event in question usually have to undergo a series of complex spells before adding their memories of the occurrence to the Perlustrare. The device then takes the memory and, in a way, expands it. It usually takes a little while, but once it is done, the judge can activate it. To those in the court room, it feels like they have all been transported inside the memory. The reality is that the memory transplants itself over the surroundings of those viewing it. Of course the fascinating feeling Pensieves create - that wonderful feeling of falling into the world of memories - is lost. Bogra the Bohemian wanted to give people the sensation of falling off of a cliff, but he couldn't create it with the Perlustrare. Daddy says the wind carried him away after that."  
  
After this rather long-winded explanation, and accompanying story, all those in the room were staring at the dazed looking Ravenclaw, most with raised eyebrows. Luna, in response, idly plucked her wand out of her hair - where it had been doubling as a pin for her hair - and twirled it around her fingers a few times.  
  
Hermione stared at the dirty blonde girl silently. The bookworm's face was expressionless, but if one looked closely, it was evident that she was more than a bit miffed at the unique girl. Sure she had explained basically the same thing to Neville, Ginny, and Ron a few seconds before, but the Prefect thought that she had made it pretty clear that she wanted to answer the Slytherin.  
  
No, it wasn't because she enjoyed being an insufferable know-it-all, as Professor Snape was constantly claiming, but it was mainly because it was Malfoy who asked the question, and after the ceaseless name calling over the past few years, Hermione had taken to getting back at him simply by knowing more than he did about... everything.  
  
The bushy-haired girl had to resist the childish urge to stamp her foot on the ground; she chose, instead, to try to re-capture her moment of revenge.  
  
"The Perlustrare is truly a fascinating device, as well because of how much one can see with it. For instance, in the 1955 Wizengamot case of Ricotty vs. Quinlen, witness Velma Schuter was gagged and tied in a corner of a rather large suite of an inn while Jonah Quinlen attacked Georgina Ricotty. She wasn't even within viewing range of the incident, but using a Perlustrare, the court was able to watch the entire attack.  
  
"They were able to see it simply because it occurred at the same time and in the same place as where Velma was - not because she had an actual memory of seeing it. It would have been possible for the court to see the event occurring with a Pensieve, but all the members of the jury would not, I'm sure, have had the inclination to climb into one in order to view it. The most intriguing thing about the 1955 case was the fact that Velma fell unconscious for a period of time and yet the memory continued to play out. Now that, a Pensieve could not do. A Perlustrare is among the most advanced and perfected magical devices," Hermione concluded with a snide look toward Malfoy, who was glaring at her furiously.  
  
She resisted the urge to sneer back, as it would have been rather un-lady- like, but was caught by surprise when she realized that the elder Weasleys, Tonks, Remus, Professor McGonagall and especially Professor Snape were looking at her with expressions of faint - or in the case of the acerbic Potions Master, blatant - disapproval.  
  
'What did I do wrong?' Hermione wondered as she stared at the faces around her. Her eyes wandered to Ron, Ginny, and Neville who looked just as clueless as she did, and finally to Luna who was staring directly at the center of the room with an almost sad look on her face.  
  
Hermione followed the girl's gaze and found her eyes resting on Blaise Zabini whose face was completely expressionless, but her eyes clearly showed the world her shock, disgust, and a tiny bit of... was that fear in those honey brown eyes? She hadn't looked like that after Luna explained it. 'Maybe, considering the circumstances, the court case example wasn't the best I could have used...,' Hermione thought.  
  
'Still, what's she got to hide?' Hermione thought annoyed. 'Harry could be dying right now and she wants to quibble over the fact that she's going to have to reveal the details of their relationship with Harry to all of us? His closest friends? Oh please, get over it.'  
  
After a few long moments of silence, Alastor Moody cleared his throat gruffly and spoke. "Well, girl," he said addressing the detached looking Slytherin sitting in the center of the room, "are we going to get this over with?"  
  
In an instant Blaise's eyes, which had been revealing a great deal without her knowing it, narrowed furiously, and she raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow slowly, "Forgive me, Mister Moody," she said in exaggerated and clearly mocking respect. "I had to collect my thoughts for a moment. You do want them to be clear and precise for your viewing pleasure, correct?"  
  
Draco didn't even try to hide his snort of approval and though Minerva gave him a pointed look for doing so, Professor Snape couldn't resist smirking with a bit of pride.  
  
Moody's swiveling electric-blue eye zoomed around from where it had been staring out the back of his head to focus in on her when she spoke. They stared at each other in silence for a long moment before Professor Dumbledore clapped his hands lightly and got Blaise's attention.  
  
"Yes, Professor?" the Slytherin girl asked politely to the man whom she had the nearly irresistible urge to behead at that precise moment. "What do I have to do?"  
  
"Well, as Miss Lovegood explained, you must go through a series of spells both to prepare your mind and to isolate all the memories and thoughts related to Harry. This will make it much easier to guide them out, and should we manage this task properly, the Perlustrare will not pick up any more memories than needed. As you have been informed, the device captures a great deal about the surroundings of each memory and then expands it, which is why it is impossible to store as many thoughts in it as a Pensieve."  
  
Blaise nodded silently, before asking in a voice laced with the tiniest bit of hope and insecurity, "Is there any way, Professor, that we can narrow the subject down?"  
  
The old mage's eyes softened as he stared at the Slytherin. "I am afraid, Blaise," he said slowly, "that as we do not know exactly when Mr. Nott provided Voldemort with the information he needed, why he provided the information, how he obtained it, or exactly what he had to do with the spell currently on Mr. Potter. We must see everything to try to glean any clues from it that we can. I am sorry, my dear, but anything related to Harry, we must view."  
  
Tonks, whose currently bright orange eyes had been focused ponderingly on the floor during all of this talking, looked up suddenly and began to speak, "What does Nott have to do with-" but she was interrupted quickly.  
  
"Why are we making this such a big deal?" Ron Weasley exclaimed, highly irritated that the interrogation was taking so long. "If she has nothing to hide than this shouldn't be such a terrible experience for her! How can you all stand here and think she had nothing to do with Harry being cursed when she clearly doesn't want to do anything to help him get better?"  
  
Most of the Order members in the room stared at Ron in disappointment and shook their heads. Professor Snape looked about ready to murder the temperamental red head while Draco's fists were clenched so hard it looked as though he was about to draw blood from his palms.  
  
Mrs. Weasley had sprang from her chair and opened her mouth, furious words of punishment on the tip of her tongue.  
  
No one, however, took action faster than Blaise. She was on her feet in an instant, and in a matter of seconds, had her wand out and pointed straight at the Weasel's heart.  
  
"Until the day comes," she said in a deadly tone that spurred several Order members to take out their own wands in case she needed to be restrained, "that you have to display to a room filled with strangers and several known enemies all the painful, joyous, and torrid details of your romance with the Mudblood over here, I suggest you keep your disgusting mouth closed before I curse you so badly that Harry will be the last concern of anyone in this room."  
  
Just about all of the Order members had glared at her for her use of the derogatory term in describing Hermione, and some had even taken out their wands in response to her open threat.  
  
However the conniving Slytherin and the hot-headed Gryffindor did not notice any of this. The two had forgotten that they were in a room containing their teachers, parents, and even their Headmaster. The intense hatred they felt toward each other had taken command over their common sense and they each threw cutting remarks at the other hastily, never considering who else was listening.  
  
Ron's face had turned bright red at the mention of 'torrid details' and Hermione in the same sentence, and suddenly the youngest male Weasley gained a much greater understanding of why everyone felt so bad for what this girl had to do...  
  
... but that didn't mean he listened to the part of his brain that supplied intelligence.  
  
"So what if we run across a few private details here or there? If you and Harry are really," here the young wizard paused before chuckling lightly, as though struck by a thought so ridiculously untrue that it was humorous, "in love, then you would deal with your embarrassment and do what you can to help him. Unless, it's as I suspected, and your so-called relationship with Harry is nothing more than a bunch of heated rendezvous in broom closets on lonely nights. You are a fairly beautiful girl after all, and I can understand if after last year, Harry needed a few quick-"  
  
The end of Ron's statement was cut off by several events occurring at once.  
  
First, came a series of loud exclamations. Molly and Arthur Weasley had turned an red color that perfectly matched their hair, and were moving from their chairs to approach their foul-mouthed son and give him quite a talking-to; Molly had already started yelling at him as she approached the young man.  
  
The other Order members were a mix of shocked faces staring at the boy they thought they knew to be polite and well-mannered in surprise, or yelling at the idiot for his comments.  
  
Once he reacquainted himself with the idea that there were lots of other people in the room listening to what he and Zabini were saying, Ron appeared a bit taken aback by the loud outcry his remark had gained.  
  
'Well, well, well,' he thought annoyed, 'It seems that from a Slytherin, the Order can accept rude comments, but when one of their own Gryffindors fights back with words just as cruel everyone gets their knickers in a twist.'  
  
Even the portraits, it seemed, had something to say, as the outraged voices of several Headmasters and Headmistresses of the past blended together in a cacophony of yells and threats.  
  
One Headmaster, however, made sure he was heard over the din as he remarked with a bone chilling coldness, "You, young man, are out of line. Behavior such as you displayed is fitting, not for a 6th year student at the finest academy of Wizardry and Witchcraft in the world, but common filth unfit to grace the bottom of this fine Slytherin's boots. I request that you kindly learn to speak properly and politely in the presence of a lady such as Ms. Zabini here, or learn not how to live without a tongue..."  
  
Ron heard the icy words of Phineas Nigellus a split second before his chest was hit with a staggering force that blew him clean out of his chair and into the stone wall of the office with a sickening smack.  
  
All motion in the room halted for a moment as several pairs of eyes turned slowly from the young redhead, whimpering in pain on the floor, to the raven-haired witch, whose wand was still directed at the spot where Ron had been sitting moments before.  
  
For the first time since she had entered the Headmaster's office Blaise Zabini was not even bothering to try to hide exactly how she felt.  
  
Her brown eyes appeared to have taken on a darker and much more sinister shade as she glared at the Weasel at her feet. Her wand was clenched so tightly in her hand that her knuckles were steadily turning white; and while she appeared to be trembling ever-so slightly, her wand hand was perfectly steady never wavering an inch from his heart.  
  
If she had things her way, the boy would be writhing in pain from a lot worse than a simple Blasting Spell. It was a spell typically used on brick walls, but when Blaise had shot it at him she hadn't really cared what effect it would have if sent towards a human.  
  
'He appears to be alive though,' she thought, disappointed that he hadn't at least been knocked unconscious. 'Ah, well, there's always next time.'  
  
While everyone's eyes were still locked on the Slytherin before them Draco took his chance to strike. For the first time in his life preferring Muggle means of inflicting pain rather than magical, he swiftly walked over to where the Weasel was still squirming on the floor and punched him straight in the nose, which promptly broke with a loud crack.  
  
From his portrait, Phineas Nigellus applauded the Malfoy heir's actions, despite Headmaster Dumbledore's repeated shushing.  
  
When Draco got down on the ground and continued to pound his fists into various parts of Ron Weasley though, Professor Dumbledore was too busy trying to aim a spell to split them up to stop the applause for Draco, which had spread to include the other former Heads of the school.  
  
By the time Draco and Ron were separated, the redhead had a broken nose and a few bruises already beginning to form. Draco, though, only had a few scratches which he got not from Ron, but from the Weasel's little Mudblood girlfriend trying to pry him off her arse-faced boyfriend.  
  
For his part, Ron had barely been able to fend off the blows as Blaise's Blasting Spell had nearly crushed several of his bones with both the impact of the spell and the resulting slam in to the wall.  
  
It was a lot more painful than it may have appeared. Ron was particularly concerned about the aching feeling he had around his ribcage, particularly over his heart - the exact spot the Slytherin's wand had been trained to.  
  
It hurt like hell, but if the spell did one good thing for Ron, it was the fact that his head was hurting so much that he couldn't properly hear the yells of his mother and father when they at last reached his battered form on the ground.  
  
Ron did, though, find it slightly amusing that they both were scolding him as concerned tears streamed from his mother's eyes and his father carefully picked him up to take him to the hospital wing.  
  
Honestly, parents just need to make up their minds! His brain was in too much pain to bother to try to figure out if they were angry at him or distressed at his condition.  
  
As he was being carried away like a broken doll, he caught sight of Blaise Zabini standing in the center of the room, her wand trailing after his heart steadily. Her eyes were fierce and focused on him solely.  
  
Ron stared silently at her willing his brain to think of something stinging to say as a parting remark - something to let her know that she had won this round, but he would be back, ready and raring to fight soon. Anything that would express his hatred for her and all things Slytherin.  
  
An appropriate phrase was needed, that would cruelly sum up his feelings about her and her evil ways. He opened his mouth and much to his own self- disgust his tongue lolled out of his mouth a bit before he got his mind to overcome the pain and work his mouth properly.  
  
Once he felt he had a good enough grasp of his brain to talk, he took a breath and eloquently said, "Eeeugh!"  
  
Blaise Zabini smirked at his plight.  
  
Draco, from his position standing near Professor Snape, said, "What's wrong, Weasley? Cat got your tongue?"  
  
Arthur tried to quickly carry his son out of the room without any further trouble, but before he could get him out, Blaise said to Ron, "The next time you attempt to undermine or belittle my relationship with your best friend, you should think about exactly which two parties you are insulting when you do so."  
  
Ron's brain, though in some kind of pain induced state of incapability, managed to comprehend that idea fairly quickly and his eyes lowered in shame.  
  
He had unknowingly insulted his best friend. The same best friend he had been trying to defend and protect. The very same best friend who was in the hospital suffering while he was wasting time arguing.  
  
The Order members in the room stared at the girl before them in shock as Ron was finally taken out of the room, followed by a fretting Hermione, Ginny, and Mrs. Weasley. The same thoughts ran through all of their minds.  
  
Apparently there was a lot more under this girl's composed and unfeeling exterior, than they had thought. While none in the Order had expected the Slytherin to go along with everything they wanted her to do, the knowledge that she tended to lash out magically when insulted or annoyed was certainly not a welcome surprise.  
  
Worse yet was the fact that when angry, it appeared that Harry Potter's girlfriend was a magical force to be reckoned with.  
  
This was going to be harder than they had thought.  
  
Now... why was that not at all surprising?

* * *

End Chapter 2

_Last modified- June 22nd_

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Author's Notes: Don't forget to let me know what you think. Reviews are very nice indeed and I really appreciate them. Next chapter we will finally begin to sink our teeth into the Harry/Blaise relationship and I know you all simply can't wait for that! Thanks for reading. Please Review!

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	3. Knowledge is Power

Author: C. Night  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Category: Romance/Angst  
  
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Please ask if you want to borrow any of my own situations, characters, and so forth. Thank you.  
  
Author's Notes: July 10th! Happy 18th birthday to my cousin! He got to drive first and now he gets to "Rock the Vote" first. But... he'll also lose hair and get all wrinkly first so HA! Hehehe... luv ya cuzin!  
  
To my wonderful beta reader, thesteffis, thank you. Your honestly was, as usual, very much appreciated. Several things were changed that you probably should re-read. Thank you very much for either catching mistakes or stimulating me to re-word things. Some of it was reworded to make things even more ambiguous... but yeah... what can ya do? The readers thank you as well though they don't really know why they are doing it. :)

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Title: Inquiring Minds

* * *

Knowledge is the antidote to fear. 

_-Ralph Waldo Emerson_

* * *

Chapter 3: Knowledge is Power  
  
Silence stung at his ears like a swarm of bees and he became acutely aware of the fact that his ears were ringing.  
  
He was sure it wasn't as loud as it sounded to him, but at the same time he was also positive that in the dead silence of the room, everyone could hear them ringing too.  
  
His right fist was still clenched tightly and slightly throbbing. Whether that was because of the punch or because of the fact that he still had it firmly balled up- Draco wasn't sure.  
  
All the Slytherin knew was that he was getting dangerously close to a state of discomfort he wasn't sure he'd be able to tolerate.  
  
Slowly he felt his Head of House gently lead him back to his seat, subtly taking his hand within his own and uncurling his fingers.  
  
The young Malfoy was momentarily shocked by the apparent kindness and care behind such an action, but when he finally began to pay attention to his surroundings he realized that keeping his fists clenched had given him the appearance of a continuous threat.  
  
The half of the Order (even Squib-boy and Loony) that had their wands trained on him glared, and the Headmaster had given him with a look that explained that whole bit about the Dark Lord fearing him.  
  
'Alright, then,' Draco thought to himself, 'Note to self: Don't punch Weasels... much.'  
  
Slowly the teenager leaned back into the seat Severus had led him to and tried to put one of those "innocent" looks on his face.  
  
Apparently that attempt hadn't worked as he heard Blaise's amused snort echo in the large and otherwise eerily silent room.  
  
Draco turned to his cousin, thankful for the distraction, and found that she had returned to her seat, put her wand away, and was at the present quite calmly regarding the Order members whose wands were trained not on him, but on her.  
  
She looked terribly amused, and for the life of him, Malfoy couldn't figure out why.  
  
She leaned back into her chair and intertwined her fingers slowly. Several members of the Order seemed to believe that she was becoming more of a threat than the Malfoy heir was, so they calmly switched their focus points so that nearly three-quarters of the wands in the room were pointing at his cousin's heart.  
  
Alarmed, Draco opened his mouth, but before the Slytherin could even take a breath, his Head of House had silenced him with a look.  
  
It was a look that spoke volumes, and for some reason made the pale-haired boy relax quite a great deal. Apparently Blaise had things under control, or so Severus thought.  
  
Draco, while much more relieved, was not exactly sure of his dear cousin's capabilities.  
  
For someone who had things under control Blaise had, by all appearances, lost her mind. She gazed with a seemingly complete absorption at her fingers as they weaved in and out of each other again and again.  
  
The majority of the Order, who were still on their feet after Draco and Blaise's combined assault of Ron Weasley, eyed her warily.  
  
Unlike Draco, they did not believe that Blaise had lost her mind; they believed she was up to something and while they had all left the confrontation between the three teenagers to the Headmaster and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley to handle, they were not about to let the violent girl get away with anything else.  
  
Some were so furious with the girl that their hands even shook as they waited silently for the conniving and dangerous Slytherin to make her move.  
  
Slowly Blaise looked up from her hands. It was the kind of action no one really could gain much information from. Her thoughts and plans were remaining a secret.  
  
Professor Dumbledore, who had been staring at the pondering Slytherin silently, frowned deeply before he made his move on behalf of the Order.  
  
The Headmaster's wand was out.  
  
Blaise smiled brightly.  
  
The Headmaster and the Order members tensed in response to the smiling teen. Furrowed brows scanned every part of her trying to discern exactly what had brought on the unexpected smile.  
  
In one fluid motion Blaise placed her hands on the table before her and hoisted herself into a standing position, her smile still firmly in place. Betraying the expression of happiness on her face she spoke into the silence of the room in a very quiet voice that most obviously expressed terror.  
  
"Professors?" she questioned softly, looking at Lupin and McGonagall, "Headmaster?" she continued with a wide-eyed gaze that under normal circumstances would have inspired sympathy in all those who saw it. "Why do you have your wands out? Please put them away. I'm scared."  
  
Mad-Eye Moody seemed to have had enough of her and the sense of complete and utter bewilderment she was stimulating in himself and the other Order members.  
  
"Listen here, lass, we aren't playing with you. If you and your friend here," he said gruffly, indicating Draco, "lay a finger on one of your wands or even stand too close to anyone else in this room, we won't hesitate to knock you-"  
  
"After all," Blaise interrupted, as though Moody had not said a word. "You all are the Order of the Phoenix." Blaise paused after making this statement and stared around at them with a doe-eyed look of wonder on her face.  
  
"You guys fight the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters every day," the girl said in greatly exaggerated awe as she moved from behind the small table to walk between the chairs on the room until she reached the stone walls of the Headmaster's office.  
  
She ran her right hand along the wall as though transfixed by every crevice and scratch on each stone as she continued to speak, "If you wanted to, you could knock me down in an instant and I would be out of it for weeks... maybe even months."  
  
None in the Order responded to her words they all simply kept their wands trained on her, their arms moving with every step she took around the rectangular room. Draco almost started to laugh at the synchronized movement, but stopped himself when he saw the Headmaster's expression.  
  
The old man's forehead was creased. 'Perhaps he's on to whatever game it is Blaise is playing,' the blonde thought.  
  
"But then, if I was knocked out for weeks and weeks and weeks" Blaise said idly from the corner of the room where she had stopped and was gazing at Dumbledore's phoenix with interest, "you wouldn't know everything the lovely and kind Theodore Nott told me, before he fled. And I know you all want to know more about that."  
  
Several Order members were looking quickly around at each other to see if anyone knew what she was talking about before Blaise continued, "Isn't that right... Headmaster?"  
  
With her wand still trained on Blaise, who was now absently petting the scarlet and gold plumage of Fawkes the Phoenix, Tonks turned to the Headmaster and quietly muttered, "What the bloody hell is she talking about?"  
  
The Headmaster lowered his wand and replaced it in the pocket of his robes. He paused for a moment before he lifted his hand to run slowly down the length of his beard as he thought.  
  
"Well, Nymphadora," the Head of the Order began slowly, "when Harry was discovered earlier this evening outside of the school, immobile and unresponsive, I sent him by Portkey to a secure section of St. Mungo's. But I was not able to immediately accompany him. As there was nothing around Mr. Potter's body that would have appeared to have served as a Portkey to the school, I was curious as to how his body was brought back. My investigation led me, through a few clues and a several rather half-baked theories, to the Slytherin dungeons. I am afraid I wasted a few valuable minutes searching the common room and girl's dormitories, but as the students of the school had all been sent to the Great Hall at the news of Harry's capture by an uncontained threat, I didn't spend as much time as I may have otherwise.  
  
"When I finally arrived in the 6th year boy's dormitory, I found Ms. Zabini staring in what seemed to be shock at a Mr. Theodore Nott who was yelling at her. Unfortunately my search of the common room and girls dormitories had caused me to miss a great deal of their conversation save for the end, in which he said something that led me to believe that if there was a reason why Harry had not woken through my repeated casting of the Ennervate spell, it would be found only through the examination of Ms. Zabini's memories; specifically those related to Mr. Potter," the Headmaster concluded while staring at Blaise.  
  
Tonks stared at the Headmaster aghast, "But if Nott was right there why didn't you-"  
  
"When I first entered the room, Nymphadora, I did so without a modicum of evidence against Mr. Nott. It was only when he spoke that he incriminated himself and then, most unfortunately, once Theodore finished his last statement, I was summoned to St. Mungo's by the former Headmistress Dilys in a manner and for a reason that simply could not be ignored," said Professor Dumbledore.  
  
"You mean to say," Professor Snape interjected furiously, "that you left Blaise alone with Nott, who said something that led you to believe he was partly responsible for Potter's disappearance, so that you could rush off to the hospital to check up on the precious prince himself?"  
  
The Headmaster shook his head slowly at Snape, "Severus, you must understand that Harry was releasing a great deal of raw, uncontrolled magic for no apparent reason into his ward. Even now, hours later, we still do not know exactly why or how he did it; only that the amount of magic he released in the matter of a few minutes it took to contact me was enough to cause several inhabitants on the Spell Damage floor to fall ill or unconscious. Also, I did not believe at the time that Mr. Nott was going anywhere, he had been in the dormitory with Ms. Zabini for at least five minutes before I had arrived, and she appeared to be in perfectly fine health."  
  
"Wait," Tonks said confused, "you just strolled into the Slytherin Dormitories and watched the two argue for a minute or so, and then popped out without either of them noticing?"  
  
Here Professor Dumbledore scratched at his beard in what looked to be genuine confusion, "There are certain methods a Head of this magnificent school has at his or her disposal to move around the school undetected. To my knowledge, at the time Ms. Zabini and Mr. Nott could not have seen me as I was, by all appearances, never in the dorm to begin with. But as it appears that Ms. Zabini is well aware of the fact that I heard part of their conversation, I was obviously mistaken.  
  
"I wonder," the Headmaster continued with a curious glance at Blaise who was still petting the now dozing Fawkes, "exactly how that is possible."  
  
"More importantly," Professor McGonagall said sternly, "I wish to know every single word Mr. Nott said to Ms. Zabini."  
  
The Order members and Luna and Neville (whose wand arms were beginning to grow quite tired) focused once more on Blaise with narrowed eyes.  
  
Blaise turned in a quick circle around to face her Transfigurations Professor. The Slytherin slowly walked closer and closer to the teacher smiling in a way that seemed unreal as she stepped around chairs to close in on her teacher.  
  
Once the girl was standing directly in front of the teacher, nearly nose to nose and directly going against Moody's earlier warning she opened her mouth.  
  
"What did Nott say to me? You want to know?" the young witch questioned slowly with a smile.  
  
"He said," she began enunciating every word, "You disgusting bitch!"  
  
Though the beginning of her sentence was said in slow docile tones she had yelled the second part into the face of the Deputy Headmistress and Professor Dumbledore's wand had come out once more.  
  
"Miss Zabini," the Headmaster intoned slowly, "it would do you well to remember that your position as a student of this school is not a permanent condition and you should thus act accordingly when speaking to your Professors. Apologize now or risk not only the loss of House points but the possibility of suspension."  
  
"But, Professor," Blaise responded furrowing her brow like a confused child, "that's what he said. And she asked what he said. She wants to know," Blaise said spreading her arms dramatically and comically imitating Professor McGonagall's stern voice, "every single word he said to me. I'm just telling it how it happened."  
  
Before the Headmaster, who looked as though he was beginning to lose his patience, could get a word in, Blaise had already continued her tale.  
  
"So after he yells at me, he grabs my arms and yanks me all close to his face and says, 'You thought I didn't know, but I was there with you all the time! From the very first session, to the very first kiss, every time you were with him, I was with you!'"  
  
Now Blaise really appeared to be completely out of her mind. She was acting out all of Nott's actions with passion and drama. Her arms were moving, her dark hair swinging about her with each step forward or back she took and she was paying absolutely no mind to the dozens of wands following her every movement.  
  
"'In my own way, I was there! Examining everything you were feeling!' he said to me with his angry face in mine. Oh, he was really mad! He pushed me away from him and said, 'What turned me to the Dark Lord?! Why you did, of course! After all of my parents' pestering and all of my resistance because I knew you wouldn't want me to be a Death Eater. For whatever reason you were against the Dark Lord, not openly, but I could tell in the things you did, the way you said things. You didn't want me to be licking the slime off of the Dark Lord's boots, so I didn't. I pushed my ambitions, my dreams, and my plans to the side so that you could be pleased with me. And what did I get in return? I get to see you and Potter together. And then to know that he was touching you, holding you, and caressing you as I had wanted to! As I was supposed to! But once I saw you two together, I saw the potential for disaster, and I took moves from the very beginning to end it before it got too far out of hand!'"  
  
Blaise had begun to make facial expressions to match her vocal impersonations and the entire Order as well as Draco, Luna, and Neville could only watch riveted as she went on.  
  
"Then this was the part," Blaise said turning with a flourish to face Professor Dumbledore, "that you strolled in. Just when Theo the Moron said 'Every time you were with him, Blaise, so was I and I was working my magic from the very beginning. And now, at last he has fallen! Precious Potter is down for the count and there is nothing you can do about it, except kill him, and spare him the excruciating pain that is inevitable. Spare your love, Blaise. Kill him.'"  
  
The girl had her hands out at her sides, palms open, wand nowhere in sight. She obviously was not at all fearful of the Order and their wands.  
  
"So go ahead! Suspend me! Knock me out! Kill me for all I care, but along with me goes my knowledge and my memories. Memories which obviously hold the key to Harry's revival. If Nott was there 'working his magic from the beginning', and saw everything between Harry and I, the only method to counter whatever is going on would be through examining every memory I have of myself and Harry together. That would be the only way to discover how Nott could have been affecting Harry when I would be willing to swear that the two of us never ran across that bastard any more times than was perfectly normal!" Blaise yelled out to the room.  
  
The Order seemed to be debating furiously with each other over whether or not to lower their wands. Professor Dumbledore, who still seemed disappointed with the fact that Zabini had not apologized, still had his wand out though and that spurred all the rest to keep theirs out as well.  
  
Only, it seemed rather pointless if they weren't going to hurt her, restrain her, or even touch her.  
  
Finally, Alastor Moody spoke in grating tones that made Blaise Zabini break out into a full-fledged smile, "Girl, I think you are forgetting the fact that while we do need your memories, we do not need your permission to take them!  
  
"If necessary, we could stun you and force the memories out of your head... and you could deal with any mental disabilities that would surely result from it on your own." The seasoned Auror allowed a grim smile twisted its way onto his scarred face and for the first time Blaise seemed mildly disconcerted.  
  
Moody was getting very angry, and his magical eyeball seemed unable to stay still as the weathered Auror watched the Slytherin with his wand at the ready.  
  
His words seemed to have restored a sense of authority in the other Order members, who held their wands more steadily and surely in Blaise's direction.  
  
Finally Blaise, who was now standing a bit near the door of the room, whipped her wand out and quickly conjured an invisible shield around herself. Though they could not see it, the Order members all knew it was there.  
  
She then shocked them all by putting the tip of her wand to her head. "You could of course, take my memories by force. But not if I Obliviated myself!"  
  
The Headmaster cocked his eyebrow at Blaise and the girl got the message immediately. Interesting how the old man could communicate so much with on gesture.  
  
Blaise knew what he was saying. His eyebrow was raised in a manner that would suggest that she must be absolutely insane to think for one moment that he would allow her to erase memories that would save Harry.  
  
One flimsy shield was not going to stop the great Headmaster Dumbledore and Blaise knew it. It was the reaction of another that she was expecting. A reaction that came before the Headmaster could get out a word.  
  
"You wouldn't!" Remus screamed, his concern for Harry winning out over his faith in the Headmaster's ability. "You wouldn't do that to Harry, not when you obviously care for him! It would be condemning him to some awful end!"  
  
"Maybe I would and maybe I wouldn't," Blaise said in a sing-song voice twirling her wand around and slowly tracing circles around her temple, "But if I did it, I wouldn't really regret it now, would I? As I wouldn't remember Harry one bit! Isn't that right, Professor?"  
  
The girl continued to stress her point by tapping her wand against he temple with each word, "Not-" tap "-one-"tap "bit!" She tapped her wand against her head a final time and beamed at the severely shaken werewolf.  
  
"What do you want?" Remus pleaded with the girl in a quiet voice.  
  
Blaise turned her light chocolate eyes on the man, "Professor Lupin! Don't be sad. Aw, look at that! The love of a surrogate godfather. Ladies and gentleman, isn't this touching?"  
  
"You've made your point, Ms. Zabini," the Headmaster said sternly. "It would not be in your best interest to continue in this vein."  
  
"Very well, Headmaster," Blaise said in her normal colder and much more serious tone of voice (which she hadn't used in quite a bit). Though she only uttered those three words her tone spoke volumes to the group and it became obvious to the Order that the little Slytherin brat knew that she had one-upped them.  
  
And the worst part was that it was true. For the moment she had the Order in a tight spot. Remus was nearly hysterical with worry for Harry and was obviously going to protect Blaise if only to preserve her knowledge on Harry's condition.  
  
Moody's normal eye was twitching and Tonks and Emmeline Vance seemed to have scowls permanently affixed to their faces.  
  
Blaise let a small smile to come to her lips at the sight, "Lower your wands."  
  
Nearly in unison the members of the Order brought their wand arms down, except for several who still aimed their wands at her cousin, Draco.  
  
"I said," Blaise sternly commanded with narrowed eyes, "lower your wands. Wouldn't it be just terrible if I accidentally Obliviated myself... my wand is still pointed at my head."  
  
Some Phoenixes of the Order immediately lowered their wands at the threat while others challenged her by keeping their wands trained on Draco.  
  
"Very well then," she said in her falsely cheery voice and she opened her mouth quickly to say the spell.  
  
"NO!" Remus yelled as he rushed over to the Order members with their wands still raised. The concerned werewolf forcibly pushed the wand arms of all those members who had not disarmed so they were pointing at the floor.  
  
All the while he was mumbling incoherently about Harry and keeping him safe.  
  
Once all the wands were lowered and Draco was breathing freely once more, Blaise lowered her shield and said, "Way to go, Professor Lupin, I knew you had it in you! Why, you just saved Harry yourself!"  
  
The Headmaster stared at Blaise disappointedly and the girl couldn't help but smile.  
  
Yes, she knew that the Headmaster still had most of the power. However, she had succeeded in her mission and established exactly how much control she too had over the situation.  
  
This Order was not about to use their imposing numbers and brute magical force to intimidate or threaten her. She wouldn't stand for it. It had never been in her nature to contain herself in the name of the greater good or other such nonsense.  
  
She would do what they wanted, but not with all of them pointing their wands at her and her cousin, thinking that they had them defeated.  
  
She would do it with them thanking their lucky stars that she hadn't gone completely over the bend and screwed them over completely. At least that way she could take comfort in the fact that she hadn't been overcome.  
  
The way that she looked at it if her knowledge was her power, then Dumbledore himself should bow down to the power she obviously had when it came to Harry.  
  
But, this was the Headmaster and Blaise wasn't going to wait for a miracle.  
  
"Alright, Headmaster!" the Slytherin said with a happiness in her voice that wasn't all fake as she walked over to her seat before the Perlustrare. "What have I got to do?"

* * *

Blaise's head was throbbing with an intensity that was frightening. She felt as though every beat of her heart was sending some kind of sick wave of pain throughout her body.  
  
The most intense pain was centered on her head. For the fifth or sixth time in the past ten minutes Blaise took a very deep breath and held it, desperately clutching the sides of the large wooden instrument that was slowly absorbing her Harry-related memories.  
  
The process was excruciating and she was sure that her nails were biting deeply into the wood and ruining the shapes of the runes etched in it. It was hard for the Slytherin to believe that the very same runes she had once looked upon with fascination and admiration were causing her such pain.  
  
The Headmaster had explained, after he had calmed down a bit, that each of the runes represented a certain aspect of the memory they were taking in. The sounds from the moment, the sights, the smells, the Headmaster said it was even possible for certain feelings to be attached to particularly traumatizing or dramatic memories; but Blaise found that she didn't really care what the Perlustrare was absorbing right now.  
  
She cared about the fact that it was slowly melting her brain.  
  
The girl stifled a groan and resisted the urge to yank her hands away from the infernal bowl and run from the room screaming. Instead she tried to think.  
  
There were several memories she had of Harry that she absolutely refused to share with the Order.  
  
And Blaise knew within her heart that no matter what Professor Lupin, Professor Dumbledore or anyone else had to say about it, Harry wouldn't want her to share those memories either.  
  
Blaise also knew that if there was any opportunity she had of stopping the Order from seeing things, this was it.  
  
After all, what better time is there to stop something from being dumped into a bowl then when it was being poured?  
  
'It's just like in Potions,' the girl thought slowly, 'when you are trying to extract the seeds from the liquefied Wylantus flower you don't dump the whole liquid into the potion and then fish the seeds out. No, you put the strainer right above the cauldron and pour the liquid right through. The strainer takes the seeds out.'  
  
So this was it.  
  
She had to find a way to play the strainer, a way to pluck any classified, ultra personal memories of herself and Harry out before they ever went in.  
  
Now, if only she knew how to do that.  
  
After some rather intense and mind numbing concentration, Blaise found that if she remained focused she could actually get a glimpse of each memory as it was duplicated and extracted from her brain.  
  
Her grip on the sides of the wooden bowl tightened as she concentrated. So far it seemed that the bowl contained the memories of her first sessions with Harry, and a few of their extra-tutorial meetings as well.  
  
Nothing too personal yet, nothing worth splitting her head open for. Then came the first of a series of memories that Blaise knew were the real beginnings of her relationship with Harry.  
  
It felt as thought she was racing to recall her times with Harry faster than the Perlustrare could duplicate and absorb them.  
  
The first few times she stopped a memory from going in it wasn't quite as difficult as she thought it would be.  
  
All she really needed to do in order to keep a memory out of the device she discovered was to focus on it completely and coerce the damned thought to stay solely in her mind.  
  
When she did this, it seemed that the Perlustrare became irritated and just left it. It seemed, however that the pickier she got and the more memories she tried to preserve, the more difficult it became.  
  
The Perlustrare was an anaconda slithering around her mind. The creature would stop at memories of herself and Harry and squeeze them until they duplicated and were deposited into the bowl.  
  
The snake seemed not to take mind of her irritating tactic of withholding memories at first, but soon it became more insistent. Which was really unfortunate for Blaise, seeing as the device was raping her mind of her memories in chronological order. Thus, the point that the memories were becoming harder to withhold happened to be around the exact time when her relationship with Harry was becoming much more personal... and much more private.  
  
She let several things slide that she probably wouldn't have if given the choice, but she decided that she would just have to forgive herself for it and blame it on the excruciating pain blasting through her head.  
  
Blaise did manage to sever some memories at points she would rather keep private and found herself quite satisfied with that.  
  
Than came at long last the one memory she was determined to keep entirely private. She focused with all her might on the memory and directed all of her attention on the event that seemed to have occurred years before when it really wasn't that long at all.  
  
The Perlustrare-anaconda was not letting go this time, as this memory was rather long, but Blaise wasn't letting up either.  
  
The Slytherin took a deep breath yet again and released it slowly, deciding to let herself get lost in the memory and thus attach it to herself in a way that the Perlustrare couldn't possibly duplicate or separate.  
  
The young witch's eyes fluttered a bit before she closed them very tightly and clenched the bowl within her fingers with all of her might.  
  
Her expression and her thoughts screamed out, 'This one isn't coming out without a fight.'

* * *

Remus watched in fascination as Zabini seemed to glare at the ornate wooden bowl before her and close her eyes, which were gleaming with determination.  
  
The werewolf glanced at Headmaster Dumbledore who, much to Remus' surprise, seemed to be shaking his head at the young Slytherin with a bit of fondness shinning from his bright blue eyes.  
  
Remus furrowed his brow in confusion. The Headmaster had specifically told Blaise to keep her eyes closed and to try to relax her grip on the delicate Perlustrare.  
  
Yet he was smiling as he watched the girl obviously disobey his instructions. And for someone who had been threatening her with expulsion not too long ago, the smile seemed even more out of place.  
  
Remus shook his head and gave up on his ponderings of Dumbledore in favor of watching Blaise battle the device before her.  
  
He found his eyes widening of their own accord when the girl tensed in her seat for a moment before almost melting into it. Remus would have thought she had fainted had it not been for her hands which were still gripping the sides of the bowl, her head which was still upright, and her right foot which was bobbing up and down slightly.  
  
Remus was fairly certain it had been doing that for the entire time she had been depositing memories into the Perlustrare, however he only noticed it now as the rest of her had suddenly become motionless and almost completely relaxed.  
  
He watched the girl in fascination as the Slytherin's slightly tanned, but oddly pale, face began to gain some color. A lovely shade of pink suddenly appeared in two dots on her cheeks and soon spread to cover a great deal of her face.  
  
She was blushing.  
  
Remus was flabbergasted. He couldn't remember seeing the girl ever redden (or pink-en in this case). Now, it was true he had only taught the girl for one year, but after all of the experimenting they had done in his Defense class with magical creatures he had seen nearly all of his students in some embarrassing situation or other.  
  
Thus he'd the pleasure of viewing plenty of thirteen year olds duck their heads in the humiliation of having a suckerpuss splatter them with it's sticky secretion or redden like tomatoes when they found that the sight of their boggart had reduced them to quivering masses on the floor.  
  
During his term as Professor R. J. Lupin, he had even seen the implacable, untouchable Blaise Zabini embarrassed at her silly mistake on the final exam. But even when she was faced with the eternal mortification of forgetting the spell to banish a Hinkypunk, the girl's face had never gained an iota of color.  
  
She had simply inquired on the value of the final exam towards one's cumulative average as she removed the large chunks of seaweed from her sopping wet hair.  
  
Remus found it difficult to believe that this was that same girl as he watched her face progressively get less pink and more red.  
  
Then she began to bite her lip slowly in a way that reminded Remus of something, but he could not recall what it was. Her breaths were coming out in small gasps and the flickering light of the room made the slight perspiration on Blaise's forehead glisten.  
  
Remus knew a thing or two about Perlustrares. He by no means proclaimed himself an expert, but he was fairly certain he had a great deal more knowledge about them than Hermione and Luna combined as he, unlike the two teens, had lived through the trials of the Death Eaters after Voldemort's first defeat.  
  
Perlustrares were even rarer at that time, but he had read of one very detailed account buried deep within the Prophet of how the memories were extracted. The witness to the duplication and withdrawal of the memories had by no means hinted at any effects or results quite as... orgasmic in appearance as this.  
  
Finally Blaise inhaled were loudly and deeply before her foot stopped bobbing up and down and her head lolled forward. Her hands, though, were still against the sides of the wooden bowl.  
  
Draco and Severus, who had been watching the entire scene with perfectly blank faces stepped forward and moved to pull her away from the device, but Professor Dumbledore stopped them.  
  
"Gentleman," the Headmaster said in a voice that caused both of them to halt their movements immediately, "I suggest that you both allow Ms. Zabini to finish."  
  
The two Slytherins leveled two frighteningly similar glares on the old Professor, but nonetheless backed away a bit from the girl. When they both backed up a step their bodies obstructed Lupin's view.  
  
As much as the werewolf didn't want to admit it, Blaise's threat of wiping her memory had frightened him a great deal. Though he knew the girl was obviously not carrying it out, the former professor moved a bit closer to see the process through to its end and reassure himself that they were on their way to Harry's revival.  
  
Once Remus had moved enough to be able to see Blaise, he watched as her hands fell from the bowl and on to the table it was resting on. The Perlustrare glowed a faint silver color before each rune carved on the bowl lit up, one at a time and finally all at once.  
  
Then, suddenly, a bright flash of light filled the room and when Remus's eyes had cleared, he was able to see a silvery substance within the ornate bowl which looked very much like molten mercury.  
  
Once the former professor had gotten over his shock at seeing the Perlustrare full, he looked toward the Slytherin who had labored over the device for an eternity of twenty long minutes.  
  
He noticed that the girl had pitched forward after contributing her last memory and her head was resting between her arms which were lying flat on the small table.  
  
The young witch's head was almost touching the bowl which was nearly full with the silvery liquid, and Remus found that he had a hard time looking away from the molten substance. Her dark hair had spread around the bowl and the table, forming a halo of raven silk.  
  
Draco was the first to approach the girl and he placed a hand on her cheek which was once more devoid of color. The boy pulled his hand away quickly and seemed to be trying to come to grips with an idea.  
  
He opened his mouth and the entire room waited silently for his response. Even the flames of the candles seemed to hold their movement until Draco finally whispered, "She's cold. Freezing cold."  
  
"Impossible!" Severus proclaimed and he hastily pulled the young Malfoy away to see the girl himself.  
  
The Head of Slytherin placed his hand on her cheek and then quickly to her neck. To Remus it looked as though the stern Head had to stop himself from sighing in relief as he said more to Draco than anyone else, "She's just unconscious, but you are correct. Given her state a few moments ago, she is inexplicably cold."  
  
It seemed that as a unit the entire room of assembled witches and wizards turned to Professor Dumbeldore for an explanation. The old mage tugged at his beard a bit before meandering across the room and closer to Blaise.  
  
"I am afraid, Severus, that upon closer examination one would find that Blaise is not simply unconscious. She has fallen into a state I like to call a magical sleep." At the several incredulous looks he received the Headmaster smiled, "It is of course not really called that. But if I were to say its real name I know I would get into a highly technical explanation that and we simply do not have the time for. It simply means that Ms. Zabini is going to sleep for as long as it takes for her magical reserves to stabilize."  
  
"Stabilize from what?" Draco snapped at the Headmaster the boy's typical sneer and condescending tone in place.  
  
"From counteracting the Perlustrare of course!" The headmaster said joyously. "I must say she did put up quite the fight!  
  
"But never fear," Dumbledore said in particular to Remus with a glance at the full Perlustrare, "I should think we will have more than enough memories to work out our little mystery, despite Ms. Zabini's editing."  
  
Draco made an indignant sputtering noise, "Is that all you care about? What about Blaise? Or have we all forgotten the fact that she is lying, near dead, and freezing on that table over there."  
  
Professor Dumbledore fiddled with his half moon glasses for a moment before he said, "She could of course be taken to the Hospital Wing. But... wouldn't you agree, Draco, that the full staff of Healers at St. Mungo's would be much better at seeing to your cousin than Madame Pomphrey, who is after all, just one woman. Perhaps you'd like to accompany Blaise there?"  
  
Draco narrowed his eyes furiously and his mouth opened in a full fledged snarl, "You planned this all along, didn't you? You knew this would happen! You knew Blaise wouldn't give up her memories without a fight, but you let her do it anyway so that you could ship both her and me off to St. Mungos! Then you could all be free to riffle through her memories without interference!"  
  
The boy, for the second time in one night, had become over come with rage and in a move of utmost idiocy pulled his wand on the Headmaster. There was no Blaise to protect him this time and nearly instantly he was knocked out by at least five different stunners.  
  
One of which came, surprisingly, from the wand of his Potions Professor.  
  
Snape looked down at Draco with some disappointment, but a great deal of understanding in his eyes. He most definitely saw the boy's point and had noticed that the Headmaster was orchestrating some sort of plan; but he, unlike the impetuous teenager, trusted Dumbledore and would not stand for any more mindless shouting when time was of the essence.  
  
The room became silent with Draco's fall to the floor, each person lost in their own thoughts and theories until the cry of Fawkes brought them all back to attention.  
  
The Headmaster spoke before anyone else had the chance, "Ms. Lovegood, Mr. Longbottom, wouldn't you agree that it would be nice for the two of you to accompany Ms. Zabini and Mr. Malfoy here to St. Mungo's? Perhaps you could visit Harry a bit. His magic is quite stable now, and I'm sure he would, whether awake or not, appreciate a visit from some friends."  
  
Luna did not say a word but stood when Neville got up. "Sure, Professor," the soft-spoken Gryffindor responded. Everyone in the room noticed though, that his words were a bit drawn out and he gazed at the fallen Malfoy with a pondering expression.  
  
"Remus," the Headmaster continued, "I am sure you wouldn't mind accompanying the students to the hospital."  
  
Remus opened his mouth in obvious indignation and was about to say something when Dumbledore continued, "Am I right in assuming that you would love to pop in to see Harry for a bit while you were there?"  
  
Remus narrowed his eyes in defiance.  
  
The Headmaster sighed a bit before saying, "Surely the students cannot go alone and, never fear, in time we will send someone to relieve you and perhaps bring Mr. Weasley, Ms. Granger, and Ms. Weasley over as well. Not for too long of course, but as they have all taken their exams, I can't see how spending visiting hours with their friend could hurt."  
  
Remus nodded with the expression of a prisoner of war commanded to fire upon his own comrades as he walked over to the fireplace, levitating Draco and Blaise behind him, and gesturing to Luna and Neville to go first.  
  
As the werewolf climbed into the fireplace last, squeezed in alongside the two unconscious students, (he had decided it would be best to wake Draco once they were already in the hospital) he stared long and hard at the assembled members of the Order.  
  
It was impossible for anyone in the room to misinterpret the look that Remus leveled at the Headmaster. It clearly said that he was not doing this because he liked it or wanted it, but simply because it was his duty as an Order member.  
  
The look also said to all those in the room that they had better figure out exactly what was wrong with Harry and how to fix it, or else there would be hell to pay in the form of one furiously overprotective werewolf.

* * *

End Chapter 3 

_Last modified- July 10th_

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Author's Notes: Alright. I can see the angry lynch mob forming before my eyes. No, we didn't actually get to the Harry/Blaise stuff this chapter. And yes, it was another chapter full of conversations that contained perplexing contradictions. But I found that it was necessary to the development of the story and plus, all that really means is that I've had more time to think out the Harry/ Blaise stuff which is (in the end) better for you.  
  
There are several questions that I know people will ask after they read this chapter, one of which will be 'If she really loves Harry why would Blaise be so unwilling to help the Order?' This is a very valid question. My only response to it would be to ask, in the end did she or did she not actually help the Order? Yes. But why did she half to be so damned annoying about it? It is in one of Blaise's personality traits that the answer can be found. I think I may have even stated it in the chapter. A brownie point to you if you know what that characteristic is.  
  
I know there are tons more questions that will be asked, but at this point all I can do is feed the answers to you through the story. Keep your eyes peeled and I just hope, for the sake of my sanity, I'll find a way to get them all out to you. But some things I can tell you right now will always remain a mystery... to you readers anyway.  
  
And for those of you wondering, the blushing Blaise thing... just make of it what you will. I'll say no more on that topic. Hehehe.  
  
Oh, an additional brownie point if you know who said the title of this chapter (I obviously didn't make up something that profound myself). You got two quotes this time. Isn't that nifty?  
  
Until next time.

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	4. Hostile

Author: C. Night

Rating: PG-13

Category: Romance/Angst

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Please ask if you want to borrow any of my own situations, characters, and so forth. Thank you.

Author's Notes: Yes friends, the ridiculously long wait is over! I am truly sorry that this has taken me such a long time, but it seems as though suddenly got (and still am) disgustingly busy. I repeat that I am very sorry that it took me so long to update and I would like to thank you all for reviewing, it really did make me want to write this chapter.

Special thanks must be given to my beta reader, thesteffis, who miraculously corrected this longer than average chapter in mere hours. Once again, I ask that you please hold your applause. :)

To Rocky235, all I can say is welcome to the so called "Wall of Fame." And you even get a title; you are "the first reader I've ever had to single handedly FILL my inbox with reviews." Congrats! And thank you for taking the time out to do that, it made finishing this chapter that much easier.

Reminder about the timeline: All scenes from the Perlustrare (yes we actually got some in here!) occur in chronological order starting at the beginning of Harry's & Blaise's 6th year. All scenes_ in this chapter _from the Perlustrare occur before the events in _Getting Out._

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Title: Inquiring Minds

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* * *

I love pissing you off, it gets me off.

_Eminem (Marshall Mathers)_

* * *

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Chapter 4: Hostile

"Sir, I'm sorry but I can't allow you to go-"

"Sir. I said you cannot go -!"

"SIR!"

"_Stupefy_."

The soft thud of a nurse's head hitting the floor echoed through the otherwise silent reception area of on the Spell Damage Floor of St Mungo's and the werewolf, Remus Lupin, slowly tucked his wand safely back into its holster.

As he looked down at the nurse, whose head was most certainly going to ache when she finally awoke, Remus's brow furrowed a bit.

If she hadn't been so difficult she wouldn't have had to have her head slammed into the floor like that.

Sure, the nurse had been accommodating toward Blaise, who was being checked into the hospital as a patient- a very late night patient at that. And sure, she was even nice to Draco, Neville, and Luna who were each given a spare bed to rest in until the morning, but the witch's patience seemed to end abruptly when it came to him visiting Harry after hours.

"Visiting hours have been over for quite some time," she had said to the fretting man with the air of a high and mighty queen looking at a peasant who dared to ask her for a morsel of bread.

"Surely you can wait until tomorrow morning to see him," the nurse had stated with a firm authority that seemed completely unfitting given the paper hat perched precariously upon her head.

But the truth was, no, Remus could not wait until tomorrow to see Harry. He needed to see with his own eyes and feel with his own hands that Harry was at least alive and not withering away by the minute.

'And anyway,' Remus thought to himself as he stepped over the nurse's body to search for Harry's room, 'who would possibly take that woman seriously? She was falling asleep on her feet, and her hat was green! _Lime_ green!'

The werewolf's pace increased as he forgave himself for stunning the nurse. That was in the past, and she probably needed the sleep anyway. Harry was his concern now.

Harry, and Harry alone.

Remus's eyes wandered over the occupants of each of the rooms he poked his head into, each time holding his breath as he prayed for a glimpse of some messy black hair or a set of perfectly round glasses resting on a bedside table, and each time letting that breath rush out of his lungs in disappointment.

'Where could that boy be?' Remus wondered and inwardly cursed himself for not checking the nurse's directory before he had left her.

Finally Remus reached the end of the hallway and came to a small room separated from all the others. Unlike those that he had passed, this area had a large door with a round, silver door knob and given the feelings he was getting, the werewolf was willing to bet that the door was warded.

It reeked of magic residue.

Sighing in resignation to at the task before him Remus whispered a few of the more complex counter-charms he knew for wards. To his surprise nothing happened.

Bewildered, the werewolf cast a rather unknown spell identification charm on the door and found that it was covered with spells to keep magic contained. There were no wards whatsoever.

As the werewolf put his hand on the doorknob and easily opened the door he muttered to himself, "I'm always making things so bloody complicated."

Slowly the man poked his head around the door. Surprisingly, the secluded area was lit only by a few candles which cast eerie shadows across the walls.

He lit his wand with a quick "_Lumos_" and stepped into the medium sized, yet sparsely furnished room.

As soon as both of the werewolf's feet were planted squarely on the carpeted floor of what appeared to be the only room left for Harry to be staying in, he felt a great pressure settle over him.

It was as though a Giant was sitting on his chest, preventing him from breathing. Panicked, the wizard took several gasping breaths, his face turning bright red dangerously quickly. A minute later, after several frantic attempts to breathe properly, the werewolf fell to his knees, his wand clattering on the floor.

The instant the wand fell from his hand the lit tip went out, and just as quickly the pressure that had been suffocating him was gone.

Remus started at the sudden relief and wondered exactly what had just happened. He stared at his wand for a long moment before he was distracted by the bed leg the piece of wood rested next to.

His eyes rose slowly up the bed to the figure resting upon it and his heart give a sudden lurch.

_Harry_!

Just like that, the situation had suddenly gotten so much more real for Remus.

And so much worse.

* * *

"Well, now that that's settled, let's get on with it!" Mad-Eye Moody exclaimed mere seconds after the tail of Remus' cloak had disappeared in the blazing emerald flames.

The ex-Auror had obviously developed an intense dislike of Blaise and now that she was gone, he was eager to jump right into her memories not only to gain information on Harry's condition, but also to find out more about the girl he had already classified into the "Irritating and Quite Possible Insane" category of his overly-analytical mind.

Before he could rush over to the Perlustrare and activate it himself however, a man who was also a member of the aforementioned category of Moody's mind stopped him.

"Now, Alastor," Hogwarts' Headmaster chided gently, "I do believe we have a bit to discuss first. Let's wait a moment and _think_ before we 'get on with it' as you so kindly put it."

The assembled members of the Order shifted testily in their seats a bit as Dumbledore assessed them. The usually talkative and rambunctious group seemed to be settling themselves into a light murmur of conversation and the Headmaster smiled slightly.

"You all may think I had forgotten both the hour and the daily tasks and responsibilities each of you have, but I am pleased to say that old age has not yet taken its toll on my mind."

Moody snorted loudly at this and the Headmaster smiled brightly, "Or at least not on my memory," he amended.

"I brought you all here tonight, or perhaps I should say last night," the old man said with a glance out the window at the lightening navy blue sky, "To update you on Mr. Potter's situation. As he is a member of this Order and a key player in this war it is indeed a priority to ensure that we are each doing as much as we can to restore him to his former magical and... mental health.

"And though I by no means am asking you to relinquish your jobs, familial responsibilities, or previously delegated Order duties, I do wish that you each would think on what we have learned here today." The Headmaster paced in front of the window of his office and finally stopped to place his gnarled fingers on the cool panes of glass- his back to the Order.

"Particularly focus, if you would, on Mr. Nott's words to Ms. Zabini, young Mr. Nott's relationship with his father, Voldemort, or anything else you may think of. Any sudden thoughts should be followed through. No thought, I believe, is truly and wholly unfounded.

"Though some of you will indeed be '_riffling' _through Ms. Zabini's memories I think we could all agree that the entire Order could not possibly be expended for such a task."

Kingsley Shacklebolt blinked slowly at the Headmaster and after a moment's deliberation, the characteristically calm man wanted to scream.

It felt as though Dumbledore had psyched them up for a daring adventure, a stunning battle, and then as they were prepared to march toward the door he had turned around and slammed it shut.

No, the Auror did not have any particular inclination to sift through the memories of a sixteen year old girl, but despite his fatigue, he did not really feel like going home to bed either.

He felt extremely annoyed that he had been summoned to waste a night that could have been filled with well-deserved sleep with the entire thing. He felt annoyance and - dare he say it - hostility toward the Headmaster.

Until the old mage turned away from the window to face them.

His weathered face was stretched into a faint smile that nearly resembled a grimace of pain. Then suddenly Kingsley remembered just what the name 'Harry Potter' meant to this man... and it had come to mean to himself as well.

Harry, during his months in the Order had established himself as a daring, skillful and extremely, dangerously, powerful wizard.

A force to be reckoned with.

And yet, 'Harry is... just Harry,' the man thought with a smile.

He was a sixteen year old, considerate, funny, and sarcastic teenager who had somehow wormed his way into all of their hearts.

'Yours in particular, old man,' the Auror thought, looking at the frown lines marring the Headmaster's face while at the same time reaching a decision.

Yes, he would leave. As would several others, Shacklebolt was sure, after Dumbledore had assigned them a few things to listen for or prod around a bit to find, but he would not let his tasks in the next few days overwhelm him to the point that he forgot about the quirky little squirt lying in a hospital bead waiting for the Order - his friends, his aids - to find a way to bring him out of whatever funk he was in.

As he stood from his chair, leading the flurry of people off the resume their typical lives, he promised himself that he would not forget.

* * *

Professor Severus Snape, esteemed Potion's master and "loyal" Death Eater stared hard at the Headmaster for a long moment.

He was somewhat aware of the fact that Moody was saying something to Professor Dumbledore about wasting time but he was beyond caring.

At that moment, the greasy-haired man wanted to berate the Headmaster with a series of questions on how he had managed to orchestrate this little scheme so perfectly.

Sighing internally, the man simply decided to mentally applaud the mage's success in ridding the room of all the unnecessary children and adults who now knew exactly the right amount of information and now had their own little tasks to occupy their minds.

Glancing around the much emptied room and spotting Minerva, that infernal young Auror - Tonks, Moody, and Emmaline Vance, the tall, spidery man saw that there was nothing else to do but listen to the blithering of Moody....

...Only to find that he had stopped talking.

The five pairs of eyes in the office were staring at him and calmly the Slytherin Head of House back-tracked and thought hard about what the Headmaster had said to Moody that made him shut up and stare at the Potions Master.

Finally, the man, based on what he knew of the Headmaster, responded with, "Far be it from me to put a damper on our Mr. Moody's enjoyment. Let us proceed, Headmaster."

Dumbledore smiled at Severus as though he knew the man had simply taken a lucky guess at what he should say, but before the Potion's Master could say another word the Headmaster had quickly turned to stand before the Perlustrare.

He raised his wrinkled hands over the bowl and proceeded to mutter a long string of Latin. The liquid in the bowl gained a shimmer at first and after a moment the memories gained a frothy appearance.

Finally the Headmaster lowered his hands, his long sleeves billowing like the sails of a boat, and pressed one of his fingers against an intricate rune on the side on the bowl.

A smoky steam began to spew from the surface of the foamy liquid and it seemed to rush directly toward the Headmaster's head.

"Albus!" McGonagall cried, frightened and concerned.

Her voice seemed to echo oddly, the only noise in silent room.

Minerva pressed her lips tightly together after the outburst, her eyes widening slowly. 'I had known,' she thought, 'that Perlustrares were impressive devices, but this...'

She found herself, along with the others, in the dank dungeons of Severus Snape's Potion's class. It was just about impossible to differentiate this simulation of the room from the actual dungeon which she knew was just a few floors below her.

The stone walls looked cold to the touch, but when she finally could not resist the temptation and tried to touch them, she found that she could not. It felt as though her hand was given a tiny shock; a little reminder that this was not real. That it was just a memory.

Not real.

She looked to the front of the class and found herself faced with the somewhat-younger version of Severus Snape. He sat quietly at his desk, pointing his wand every now and then at a long sheet of parchment watching some changes occur on the page with a small frown of his face.

The students' desks were empty and Minerva watched as Nymphadora prodded at one. Her fingers went right through it and when she yanked them back quickly Minerva knew she had been "zapped" by the magical energy creating the room just as she had.

With a start, Minerva remembered the billowing cloud that had engulfed Albus and her eyes shot over to the old mage. She found him in perfectly good health staring at the parchment the somewhat younger Professor Snape was still waving his wand over.

The Severus of the current time was staring at himself oddly. 'A mirror is one thing,' she thought, 'but seeing yourself like this must be a rather awkward experience.'

Professor Dumbledore opened his mouth, presumably to ask Severus something, but shut it immediately when Blaise Zabini walked through the door to the Potion's classroom.

Blaise's hair was curled tightly and pulled into a high and rather tight ponytail. Her face was expressionless as she walked slowly into the room, the first student to arrive.

"Professor," she said simply as she headed for a desk at the very back of the classroom, glancing very briefly in Snape's direction.

"Blaise," responded Severus automatically, without once removing his eyes from the parchment before him. Minerva glanced at the Severus Snape who was staring at this memory of himself in fascination and narrowed her eyes. She had never heard the dour professor address a student by anything other than a last name, usually preceded by a Mr. or Ms... unless it was Harry, in which case his name was the seventh or eighth word in a string of inappropriate adjectives.

Yet Blaise appeared to find it perfectly normal.

The girl sat down and watched the professor for a while. She made no moves to remove anything from the bag she had placed on the floor beside the desk.

Minerva found herself wondering what the girl was thinking.

* * *

'He reeks of guilt,' Blaise thought, her face clear and calm as she stared at her Potion's Professor.

He had not even glanced at her when she walked in the classroom. Though her godfather was never one for long heartfelt conversation or cheerful smiles, he at the very least spared her a gaze every now and then, something that nearly everyone else at Hogwarts could not say.

Her eyes narrowed fractionally as she thought, 'The last time he didn't look at me when I walked into this classroom was when he had to give me an A on my Potions paper because Hermione "know-it-all" Granger had included a few facts in hers that I didn't have. Of course he couldn't give her an O, being a Gryffindor and all, and since she got an E, it would have been unfair to award the same score to me when our essays were not on par.'

'Of course,' Blaise continued to think, getting agitated at the mere memory, 'No one would have known that the potion's Master had given her an inflated grade. But, contrary to what just about every student outside of Slytherin liked to believe, Professor Snape was not a wholly unfair grader.'

'It was true that he always gave the worst Gryffindors in his classes much lower grades than the worst Slytherins. But when it came to the best students (Draco, Granger, and I), some inner impartiality seemed to appear from out of no where.'

'And it always shows up just in time to bite me in the arse.'

'But what is it this time, Sev?' Blaise thought as she scrutinized his face methodically, 'What form of cruel torture are you subjecting me to now?'

Students slowly began to trickle into the dungeon and Blaise's attention was distracted from the Professor to her classmates. Draco walked in accompanied, of course, by Pansy. Vincent and Gregory were noticeably absent but Blaise attributed it to the fact that even if Snape had given them the answers to the O.W.L. questions, those two morons still wouldn't have gotten Outstandings... 'Probably not even Acceptable,' she amended.

Pansy though, Blaise wondered about. She knew the girl was interested in Potions, but her grades had never really reflected that interest, if she recalled correctly.

Draco's eyes strayed to hers for a moment before she looked away. She could feel his eyes on her for a second or two before he finally led his simpering girlfriend to their usual seats.

'Don't make any changes to the status quo now, Draco,' she thought, 'Not now.'

Over the past summer, mainly due to the unfortunate incarceration of his father, Draco had slightly adjusted his priorities and scotched his family up a bit higher on his "List of Things Draco Malfoy has found to be worth his time."

'Yes. His Family. Now moved to a new and much higher position of #16. Right under his Hair Gel,' Blaise thought snidely, a smirk starting to develop on her creaseless face.

The beginnings of the expression soon faded, however, when she remembered the way Draco had behaved over the summer. It had actually seemed as though he truly missed his father and wanted to spend more time than usual with his mother and the others in his family.

'Even the 'second cousins by the marriage of some probably disowned relatives' such as myself. I suppose that says something.' she thought, but then after a moment the smirk that had faded before returned in all its glory.

'Yes, it says that he wanted to kiss all of our arses so that if he ever gets himself landed in Azkaban, he'll have some decently intelligent people to bail him the bloody hell out,"

Blaise thought sardonically, her mind wandering to Pansy, Vince, and Greg. 'Merlin knows none of those idiots will do him any good.'

A distinctly evil chuckle threatened to escape her lips when the scratching of the chair next to her caused her brown eyes to snap to the left and her face to adopt the expressionless mask she typically wore.

"No need to get all tight-lipped and stone-faced, Zabini, it's only me," a voice said quietly. Blaise watched quietly as a dirty-blonde haired, healthily tanned, and fairly petite girl sank quickly into the seat next to her.

Blaise blinked and responded with an eloquent, "Moon."

Lucille Moon smirked at her and said, "The one and only. So tell me, Blaise, what were you about to start - dare I say it - giggling like a first-year schoolgirl?"

Blaise dodged the question deftly and asked with a hint of annoyance in her voice, "I thought this was a Slytherin/ Gryffindork class. What are you doing here?"

"Blaise, Blaise, Blaise," the girl said slowly. "Wake up! This is a N.E.W.T. preparatory class. All of the houses attend. Particularly Potions, seeing as only enough people to fill one class are usually accepted."

Blaise's eyes narrowed; she should have thought of that herself. Her brown eyes held daggers as she looked at the Ravenclaw who was now removing her book from her bag. She loathed it when people talked down to her.

Her eyes strayed to the door and she almost started praying for someone, anyone to enter the room and sit in the seat on the other side of hers. Anyone to distract her attention from this Ravenclaw who often acted a great deal too much like a Slytherin for Blaise's liking.

'Right about now,' she thought, 'I need a savior.'

Her brown eyes zoomed in hopefully on the door and much to her dismay it was a head of horribly disorderly raven locks that she saw enter at that moment.

Harry bloody Potter.

'No savior there,' Blaise thought annoyed. 'Oh well, time to take matters into my own hands.'

"Listen," Blaise said in a harsh and very low voice to the girl whose hazel eyes immediately met her own. "Why don't you run along, little raven, and find some of your own kind to play with? Frankly, I don't want to put up with you and your shit anymore. I tolerated you before in the interest of improving my O.W.L. score in Transfiguration, but now your time has passed. Get out of my sight."

Blaise felt a rush as the words left her lips. Not as sarcastic as she had intended them, but they certainly served their purpose in the 'cold as ice' form they came out in. Tears of liquefied crystal sprouted in the corners of the girl's eyes.

Lucille Moon brushed them away quickly, and opened her mouth to speak, but the Slytherin witch cut her off.

"Save it. Just get the bloody away from _my_ table. And perhaps I'll see you next year for N.E.W.T. revision."

Lucille made a few noises of surprised anger, but stormed from the table in a huff when she noticed that Blaise had turned away and was beginning to unpack her bag.

Blaise smirked widely as she placed her ink and quill perfectly on the table, twisting the bottle at the angle she liked it and quickly checking the sharp tip of her quill.

How dare that annoying little imp think that because Blaise had helped the girl in Potions the year before in exchange for a bit of assistance in Transfiguration that they were friends? That she could waltz right up to her table in Potions with a coy smile and go on about how she had almost caught her giggling?

Blaise snorted and muttered under her breath, "Preposterous! It would have been a chuckle. And an evil one at that! Not a giggle. I _don't_ giggle."

"Of course you don't, Blaise," a voice answered from her left and for the second time in the past ten minutes, Blaise found her head snapping toward a person she had not seen approaching at all.

She was losing it.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, but relaxed the instant she saw who it was, "Orion."

"The one and only," Orion Avery said in a high-pitched slightly grating voice as he twirled a slender finger around one of his own mid-ear length strands of chocolate brown hair. A perfect imitation of Lucille Moon.

Nearly identical malicious smirks graced the faces of Blaise and Orion. But Blaise's slipped away first when she was struck by a thought, "If you heard all that why didn't you come over and tell her to get the hell out of your seat?"

Orion answered with a smirk, sitting down in his seat as several students rushed into the dungeon classroom. "Bloody bastard, leaving me alone with the crazy bint for all that time, I could murder you," Blaise continued.

The Slytherin boy smirked, "I would hardly call two minutes 'all that time,' Blaise, and if I recall correctly you accepted her help in Transfiguration as opposed to my own last year. I thought you were developing a... fondness for the girl."

Blaise could taste the sarcasm dripping from his tone, but responded only with a muttered, "Hardly."

Her attention was now focused on the front of the room where her godfather was standing up to begin the class, though the bell would not ring for at least another two minutes.

Aside from the muttered whisperings of Slytherins scattered across the room, the classroom was silent. The Ravenclaws and Potter and Patil (who appeared to be the only Gryffindorks in the room) appeared to know better than to dare to speak. No Hufflepuffs.

Blaise sniffed, 'No surprises there.'

"Welcome," Snape said as he began to pace, his robes flurrying out behind him, "to N.E.W.T. Potions. Most of you seated before me have demonstrated an Outstanding capability in Potions and therefore have merited your presence in this class."

Here he paused and faced the students, "Others," his cold, charcoal eyes making their way to Potter's bright green orbs, "Have managed to whine and plead your way into a class that you are undoubtedly incapable of passing. I, naturally, wish you the _best_ of luck."

Potter's left eye appeared to be twitching. He cocked an eyebrow at Snape's last statement though.

The Professor continued, "You will need this luck for your grades will not be altered or adjusted by _anyone_." Blaise took note of the emphasis he placed on that last word.

"Should you fail to maintain the high standards required of this class, I will not hesitate to throw you out," Snape continued. "Unlike the first five yours of Potions instruction, it is quite within my right as a professor to dismiss any of you from my class for any sort of disruption or indications of a lack of extreme effort and diligence."

Beside Blaise, Orion stifled a snicker. Potter looked about ready to explode.

Snape kept the Gryffindor's gaze for a while longer before facing the entire class again; he went on as though he had been addressing the entire class, though he obviously was talking only to Potter.

"Many have questioned my decision to only allow students who achieved an Outstanding on their O.W.L. into my N.E.W.T. class. The answer to this will become apparent to all of you soon enough.

"The level of difficulty of the Potions you will be making will drastically increase. You will find that all of you will have to be more meticulous in your brewing, more studious with your assignments, and much more dedicated to this subject than ever before."

"I expect you all to rise to the challenge," his soft voice hypnotized the students and Blaise noted that his eyes had strayed to Pansy as he had uttered that last sentence.

Suddenly it all made sense in Blaise's mind. Apparently the Headmaster and Snape had struck up a deal of sorts. If Severus wanted to let Pansy in though she had not achieved an O on her O.W.L. he would also have to allow Potter, who was notoriously horrid at Potions, to enter as well.

Blaise smirked, 'I can definitely use that information.' The Slytherin thought, her eyes wandering to Potter who was tilting his head quite frequently to look at the door.

Just as the bell finally sounded Hermione Granger rushed into the classroom, bushy hair flying madly, clutching her text to her chest. "I'm sorry, Professor, I was looking for Har-"

She stopped speaking immediately when her eyes landed on Potter.

'Hum, apparently Granger had thought Potter wasn't going to show... that she was going to have to drag him to the class,' Blaise thought, 'Interesting.'

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Ms. Granger, now take your seat," Snape said in the same silken tones he always used when taking points from Gryffindor. It was a quiet and deadly hiss overlain by a distinct hint of pleasure.

'Sick bastard,' Blaise thought fondly. 'She wasn't even late.'

"Now, if there are no more interruptions," The Potion's Master continued in his low voice giving Granger a hard stare, "I shall continue. As the complexity of the Potions you prepare in this class is great, you will be assigned partners, as has been done for years. This partner is the person with whom you shall brew Potions during class and typically the person you will eventually choose to study with outside of this class.

"Each pair will be assigned a Potion on which they are to conduct research over the course of this entire year. Each potion is fairly obscure and information on it is typically difficult to procure, which is why you are given the entire year, for those of you dunderheads who haven't managed to deduce that already. By the end of the year, it is expected that yourself and your partner know everything there is to know about this Potion, and it is also expected that you make a significant change to its ingredients to achieve a specific purpose.

"Whether this change is made to enhance the ability of the Potion or to change its purpose all together is up to you, though I must emphasize the fact that minor variations to the strength of the Potion will not earn you a satisfactory mark. At the end of the year each pair will give a detailed presentation on their Potion and everyone else will take notes. This is all the review I will do to prepare you for the questions typically asked on the Potions N.E.W.T. on extremely obscure Potions. Therefore if your classmates fail to do their work correctly, you will suffer as well.

Snape paused here and allowed a hushed muttering to spread throughout the room.

Blaise was nearly giddy. Experimentation with Potions was her passion. She had looked forward to this assignment for years and could only hope that she got a good Potion.

Orion, however, frowned deeply and got Blaise's attention by muttering, "Sounds like a lot of work if you ask me."

Blaise turned to him, her brown eyes alight with excitement, "But it will be so interesting. And it will be the perfect practice for the future. What Potion do you think we'll get?"

Orion smirked slightly, "They're _obscure_, Blaise, most likely we'll have never heard of it. And of course you think this will be great practice for _your_ future. For the rest of us who don't want to become Potions Masters, it will be treacherous."

Blaise sneered, "Well that's just terrible for you, isn't it?"

Orion turned to her with a face of acceptance, "Well if we have to do it, fine. At least we won't be doing it with Gry-"

"Silence!" Snape said, and immediately the mutterings of the class ceased.

"Now, typically I allow you to choose your own partners in the interest of producing pairs that can cooperate with each other easily. However, this year at the Headmaster's request," Snape said this with a touch of bitterness in his tone, "pairs have been predetermined with the interest of furthering inter-house relations."

Blaise felt her heart clench in her chest. Breathing suddenly became much more difficult.

Surely he was not saying what she thought he was.

_SURELY_ he was not about to ruin this project! This project she had waited _years_ for!

Blaise stopped breathing all together when Professor Snape said, "Through a rather complex Potion, involving the use of the lock of hair you each were required to submit upon admittance to this class, the pairs have been predetermined with the prerequisite being that each contain members of differing houses."

NO!

Blaise wanted to shout. She wanted to scream! She wanted to rush up there and throttle him herself! How could he do this to her?! To _her_ project!

The rest of the class seemed to share her sentiment. The mutters of angry students buzzed overly loud in Blaise's ears as she watched Snape walk to his desk and pick up the scroll he had been waving his wand over earlier.

"Twenty points from both Gryffindor and Ravenclaw!" Snape's voice hissed annoyed as he picked up the parchment and opened it slowly.

The chatter had stopped before he had even finished his sentence and all the Ravenclaws and the three Gryffindors were fuming silently at the injustice of the removal of points when members of all three houses had been talking.

Blaise did not care. Her eyes were focused on the parchment in Snape's hand. The paper which held the fate of _her_ project.

"Avery, Orion," he began and Blaise felt Orion tense very slightly beside her, "Lucille Moon. The Cruditas Solution"

Lucille groaned in a distinctly unladylike fashion and Orion looked a bit nauseous under the mask of indifference plastered across his face.

"Bulstrode, Millicent. Brocklehurst, Mandy. The Sexus Adfectio Potion.

And on it went.

Blaise noticed that the name of the Slytherin always came first and she figured that there were just enough Gryffindors and Ravenclaws to cover each Slytherin. Thus, there wouldn't be any Gryffindor/ Ravenclaw pairings. This could only be the work of the Headmaster.

Only he could be so deliciously cruel, yet decidedly brilliant.

And it was due to this brilliance that Blaise felt as though the room was closing in on her.

Every now and then she would focus enough to hear something noteworthy, such as "Malfoy, Draco. Granger, Hermione. The Iocineris Potion." Or, "Nott, Theodore. Patil, Parvati. The Consternatio Solution." But her name was the last one. She knew it and she simply had to wait. Even if it killed her.

Finally at long last the words she had waited so long to hear. "Zabini, Blaise." Here Snape paused and looked up at her for an instant. Suddenly she had wished she had paid attention to who had been called already. She might have been able to figure out who the last person-

"Potter, Harry. The Chirurgia Serum."

And just like that, Blaise's world collapsed.

* * *

As the scene faded slowly into a new one Moody took the chance to express his feelings on what he had seen. "You pushed them together!" Mad-Eye yelled in anger as he watched the scene, along with Blaise's look of utmost fury, fade away.

"As I explained to Blaise several times after her name and Potter's were read, the spell and potion which that list of names was subjected to were designed not only to randomly pair students, Moody. I also modified them choose the combinations most likely to produce outstanding results. Regardless of what the pairs may think of each other," Snape explain in clipped tones to the irate ex-Auror.

"I had wondered," Albus said slowly, "Why, Severus, you continued to charm the parchment repeatedly. Even after it had produced the pairs."

Snape looked a bit abashed by the question, but answered it nonetheless. "I was convinced that some of the pairs were incorrect. Therefore, I cast a charm to remove the requirement of pairs being students of different houses.

"Several of the pairs shifted and changed once I removed that specification of the charm, but the names Potter and Zabini stayed together regardless. When Blaise entered the room I was recasting the original charm with both requirements."

Emmaline Vance nodded a bit to herself before asking, "What were the exact requirements of the pairs?"

Snape looked at the official from the Ministry with annoyed obsidian eyes and said as though speaking to an invalid, "Requirement 1: Each pair must be comprised of two individuals from different houses. Requirement 2: Each pair must be comprised of two students who, when working together cooperatively, would produce better results than if they worked with another."

Emmaline nodded her head happily once more and said, "Notice that that second requirement never specified anything to do with Potions."

Severus's charcoal eyes widened comically, but before he could utter a word, Tonks had said, "Interesting, but how exactly is it that we are fading in and out of the memories like this? Obviously the class did not end that soon, why aren't we still there?"

Professor Dumbledore answered her question as he calmly ran his fingers down his beard. "Well, Nymphadora," he said ignoring her grimace, "The Perlustrare has certain properties and functions that have always been a bit vague. For instance, if one is using a Perlustrare to find one particular memory, it is often found that even if there are several others in the device this is the one which will be viewed first."

Tonks nodded as the headmaster continued.

"I also have a bit of control over what we are seeing and when the memory will fade into another as I cast the activating spell. For example, it was I who cut this memory short as Severus was in the room as well and I am sure that anything largely significant that occurred on that first day he would disclose."

Here the group gazed at Snape, who snarled at them as if insulted that they would even entertain the thought that he was hiding something about a fairly typical day of teaching.

"Yes," Dumbledore said, directing the inquiring eyes on himself yet again, "I have some ability to control what we see. I would not allow us to waste time viewing every chance encounter between Blaise and Harry in the hallway, however my abilities do not extend much beyond skipping certain short memories and 'fast forwarding' if you will."

Snape scowled at the Muggle reference.

"Sometimes," the Headmaster continued with a pondering frown, "I am unable to even do that much. The Perlustrare is more in control than one would think. One of the many differences between the Perlustrare and Pensieve is the fact that the Perlustrare can determine, by our own intent and thoughts, what we desperately need to see. If the device deems a memory extremely important, I may not be able to skip over it."

Minerva frowned deeply, "What would we do then?" she asked concerned.

"Stop the device of course!" Moody responded gruffly.

Professor Dumbledore nodded in agreement, "The Perlustrare may be in control to a significant degree but we can always stop the device."

Snape meanwhile was watching as a new scene slowly faded in the place of the old one, "Does it always take so long?" he muttered.

"No, not at all," the Headmaster replied happy to explain, "I was slowing it down in fact! The passage of time in the Perlustrare is much different. While we watch hours of memories you would be amazed at how little time is passing in our own reality outside this world of memories."

Tonks's eyes widened comically as the scene around them came into focus much faster, "We're back!" she exclaimed in a voice reminding those in the room of her young age, and thus, her ability to easily relate to Harry.

"Indeed," Dumbledore said with a small smile on his face, "Indeed we are."

The old mage began to tune out the mumblings of his colleagues from his hearing and focused a bit more.

Finally the scene before him began.

"Ah, the library!" Dumbledore said with a pleasant smile, seeming not to care that no one was really playing him any mind, "Wonderful place for the furthering of ideas, the conducting of research and-"

Dumbledore's light ramblings were interrupted by the long and loud groan of an irate Blaise Zabini who stormed into the library which had taken shape around them. She threw her books onto a long wooden table, sat down, and promptly buried her face in her arms.

She was mumbling something into her arms but the Headmaster could not hear it. Curiosity lighting his bright blue orbs, he inched closer and concentrated.

"Of course time bloody flies when you don't bloody want it to! Of course Potter had to be my partner!..."

Dumbledore smiled at the muttered words and finished his thought, "Ah, the library: the perfect place to vent one's frustrations."

* * *

"OF COURSE SNAPE WOULDN'T BLOODY CHANGE MY PARTNER!" finally came the exclamation that had been waiting to burst from Blaise's lips.

Some studious Ravenclaws jumped at the yell and a few first year Hufflepuffs grabbed their books and quickly moved to a table much further from the irate Slytherin.

Madam Pince hadn't been at her desk when Blaise had entered, but came storming in at her exclamation.

She shushed the girl from her desk leveling her with a fierce glare. Childishly, Blaise made a face at the woman and when she thought the librarian had looked away proceeded to give her a very clear and detailed view of her middle finger.

Unfortunately for Blaise the stern woman had only looked down for a moment. "Young lady," Pince began her ranting, standing up from behind her desk and making her way slowly toward Blaise's table, "Such behavior will not be tolerated in this library. You are to leave at once or risk-"

"Leave?" Blaise questioned immediately. "As in unable to remain in the library? You can do that? Ban me from the library?"

An almost eager excitement blossomed in her voice and Madam Pince was assuredly taken aback. "Well," the librarian began.

"Ah, ah, ah," a voice came from behind the library matron, "Don't think you'll be getting out of this that easily, Blaise. I refuse to let you fail Potions because you were banned from the library and Potter just gave up on finding you."

Orion appeared from behind Pince and Blaise slumped back into her seat glaring at the boy angrily.

The Slytherin boy visibly softened his eyes and looked at the librarian, "Please excuse my dear friend Blaise..." he began with a coy smile.

The impenetrable Pince stared at him a moment before returning the smile with a slight upturn of the lips.

Orion was hardly ever in the library but when he was he always demanded silence from any other in it; a fact that Pince obviously recalled.

Blaise watched slowly, shaking her head back and forth as Orion led Pince back toward her desk telling the woman Merlin knew what about her sanity as they went.

The Slytherin witch began to feel some irritation blooming within her. That bastard had just stolen an easy way out of at least one of these "sessions from Hell" and he would have to pay.

Orion walked smugly back toward the table and sat down near Blaise who had taken out her wand and was idly twirling it around in her right hand.

"Listen, Avery," Blaise said slowly and Orion immediately smirked at the use of his last name, "You and I are what I would call 'acquaintances who've spent too much time together'. Unless you want that to quickly change to 'enemies who cannot resist the sight of each other's blood spilled on stone floors,' I'd suggest you stop messing with my escape routes."

The words were course and harsh, but her delivery gave her away. Blaise said the words almost lazily, without an ounce of real anger in them and coupled with the slow twirling of her wand, Orion found himself resisting the urge to laugh.

Instead he snorted, and opened his mouth to retort, but Blaise responded by hitting him with a Silencing Charm.

'Filthy little wench,' Orion thought as he listened to Blaise chuckling beside him.

Yes, it was true they weren't really friends by any stretch but Orion was beginning to grow a bit fond of the overly dramatic, yet sometimes eerily quiet girl he'd struck up a conversation with a mere year ago.

Sometimes he wondered exactly who she had talked to before then. Other times he knew who she'd talked to- no one.

And she seemed to have liked it that way.

His thoughts were distracted by Blaise tensing beside him and his eyes immediately roamed over the library.

Bingo. 'Potter has entered the building.'

The Gryffindork walked in slowly as though trying to evade the inevitable by approaching it gradually. His raven hair was cut shorter this year and Orion could already see the tip of the lightning bolt scar only partially concealed under the dark locks.

Potter stopped walking once he reached Pince's desk. His eyes wandered slowly over the library and his brow furrowed a bit.

'This is bloody priceless,' Orion thought gleefully.

He nudged Blaise to get her attention away from Potter and raising his eyebrows a few times managed to get her to remove the silencing spell. Taking a deep breath he said quickly, "Ten galleons says he doesn't know who you are."

Blaise, who after removing the spell had begun to steadfastly remove her Potions book, parchment, inkwell, quill and journal from her bag, looked up quickly into the cobalt eyes of the boy beside her.

"You're kidding," Blaise whispered with an extremely malicious lilt to her voice.

"No my dear," Orion responded slowly and quietly, "Take a look."

Very slowly as to not attract attention to herself Blaise lifted her head and narrowed her brown eyes on Potter. He appeared irritated and his eyes darted around the library as he tried desperately to recall exactly who she was.

Blaise smirked, 'The wanker had been so happy to have not been paired with Malfoy that he really had cared less who his actual partner had been. He fled that classroom faster than a doxy out of the sunlight, eager to escape Snape's mocking.'

Now Tuesday had rolled around, the day in which all pairs were required to meet each other to discuss their projects and make plans for future study. Potter had sent her an owl requesting a meeting in the library at five o'clock and it was only now that the moron had realized he didn't know who she was.

Slowly sneaking a glance at Orion who was watching Potter with a smirk, Blaise slowly began to pack her things back into her bag. If Potter didn't know who she was there was no reason for her to bother staying was there?

Of course not.

She froze when she felt eyes on her. She looked toward Potter first only to find him still searching the library which was slowly filling with pairs of potions partners and gradually getting nosier.

So she then turned to Orion who was staring at her packing her things with a look she automatically did not like.

"Whatever you are contemplating," Blaise said slowly, "Is undoubtedly going to aggravate me to no end. I suggest that you disregard the thought immediately. For your own sake, don't do something I am going to have to force you to regret, Orion."

Much to her dismay Orion stood up. "This," he whispered with a hint of malice and a touch of glee, "Is for the silencing spell. Never, _ever_ do that again."

And before Blaise could move a muscle Orion had shouted, "Oi! Potter, she's over here!" and proceeded to leave the library, returning the slight smile Potter gave him in thanks.

Blaise's jaw dropped and she had to forcibly stop herself from allowing her head to fall forward and slam into the wooden desk before her.

Just like that, escape route number two had been yanked from under her.

'Damn it all to sodding Hell.' She thought as Potter began to walk toward her, a frown marring his features, 'Damn it all.'

* * *

Tonks held her breath as Harry approached Blaise's table slowly and with a deep frown on his face.

This was the moment they had all, unknowingly, been waiting for. The moment when the Slytherin and Gryffindor would meet. As they were to become a couple a mere month or two from this moment, Tonks found herself expecting it to be something quite extraordinary.

Without realizing she was doing it Tonks found herself nibbling lightly on her aqua painted finger nails. It seemed as though Harry was deliberately walking slowly, prolonging the agonizing moment, and stretching her curiosity to its breaking point.

A quick glance revealed that Blaise had lifted her jaw from the floor and was starting to unpack her supplies for the second time; muttering phrases under her breath Tonks couldn't hear, but was sure were positively horrid about her very amusing housemate, Orion Avery.

Finally Harry reached the table. He did not sit down, but stared at Blaise intently for a full minute as she proceeded to remove her belongings from her bag.

The library was full of the whispered exchanges of several students and Tonks found herself wishing to silence all of them if only to hear even the slightest whisper from either Harry or Blaise.

She had always been a sucker for Muggle soap operas, watching them whenever she spent time with her Muggle-born friend Sophie over the summer holidays.

This exchange between Harry and Blaise had somehow had turned into the season finale of EastEnders and she felt that same rush of excitement and anticipation come over her that she had always felt sitting on Sophie's parents' couch clutching a pillow hoping that the right character was impregnated by the ex-husband of said character's neighbor's evil twin.

Blaise finally had unpacked her things lined them up neatly and opened her book. Harry still had not sat down.

He coughed lightly and Blaise looked up at him with annoyance, though she still did not say anything to him.

"Can we go somewhere else?" the Gryffindor asked in a tone layered with annoyance.

"No." Blaise responded immediately, "You said in your letter that we were meeting here. Consider yourself lucky that I even showed up. Though when you walked in here you didn't even know that I had showed up at all, did you?"

Harry flushed lightly, something Tonks had not seen him do in quite a long time, and sat down with a huff, "Well, if you spoke up in class once in a while I would have known who you were now, wouldn't I?"

"Oh I see," Blaise said scathingly, "I must speak up in class simply because then Lord Potter of the Ignorant and Moronic would be able to know who I was. Forgive me, Your Highness, I did not subject to your wishes. How dare I?"

Harry, who had been unpacking his things onto the table lifted an eyebrow and focused his green gaze on the girl. For a moment Tonks thought she was about to witness one of the Potter temper tantrums she had heard so much about the year before, but much to the surprise of both herself and Blaise, he laughed.

"Lord Potter of the Ignorant and Moronic, huh?" the raven haired teen said around his chuckles, "Congratulations, I've never heard that one before and believe me, I've had my name dragged through the mud so many times that I thought I'd heard them all."

Blaise made a face as she began to flip through her Potions book, "Hum, I'm sorry, is this the part where I pity you?"

"No," Harry responded, "By all means continue to slander and defame my name."

Blaise did not say a word she just flipped to the index of her text and scanned pages quickly. So Harry continued, "Unless of course, you would rather work on Potions. It would be a more... uninteresting, but decidedly more productive course of action. But far be it from me to offer a suggestion, Lord of the Ignorant that I am."

"Potter," Blaise said at last looking up from her book.

"Yes?" Harry responded with a mock condescending smile.

"Do you ever cease the mindless blithering you seem to view as conversing with me?" the Slytherin said as she stood up slowly, "Because the The Chirurgia Serum which, if you recall, is our assigned potion, is not in our text and I will not be able to find the book it _is_ in if you continue to yammer in my ear."

Tonks noted that while those words directed at Orion may have come out in exactly the same order, they would most definitely have been said in a more lazy or casual tone of voice.

Harry was not going to have it easy with this girl.

Not in the least.

* * *

'Great,' Harry thought as Blaise walked away from the table and over to Potions section of the library, her robe flaring out behind her as she went.

'Just when I thought I wasn't working with Malfoy I discover he's had a twin sister all this time. She spent her time hiding in the shadows, waiting for this opportunity to pick up her brother's noble work of pissing me the hell off.'

"Fan-bloody-tastic," Harry said aloud, taking the leather bound journal Hermione had given him over the past summer out of his bag.

He rested his palm against the sleek yet bumpy maroon leather as he remembered the letter Hermione had sent with the letter. Though neither Snape, nor any other teacher had requested that they buy a notebook for their classes, Hermione had insisted that he use the one she had given him as a birthday gift for Potions.

The Gryffindor girl claimed that he had no organizational skills when it came to his notes, and as the N.E.W.T. Potions class was sure to be challenging, he needed something to hold the papers together.

The result was a rather nice, leather bound notebook that Hermione would demand to see him writing in at least every now and then.

Idly, Harry rested the sharp edge of his quill against the paper and scratched the dry tip idly against the first page of clean paper.

He hardly saw the point of keeping a journal for a class if the professor wasn't even going to read it, but now that this project had been assigned, Harry figured that he may as well use the bloody thing to document all the meetings he had with his partner and take notes on their Potion.

Sighing, Harry finally dipped the quill into some maroon colored ink he had gotten from Ginny as a birthday gift, most likely in collaboration with Hermione. He figured that if he was the only one that was going to read the notes it didn't matter if he wrote them in a color typically not accepted.

_10th September_

He wrote in his typical scrawl on the top left corner of the page. He used the feather on the quill to tickle his chin a bit before he continued to write.

_The Chirurgia Serum_

_Info:_

_Typically used as a sedative before complex healing operations. Very seldom used, as for most wounds the patient can be sufficiently subdued with a simple stupefaction hex or sleeping potions. _

Harry scratched at his head a bit searching for the right words and sighed as he wrote, 'More to come' after what he had written so far. He would have to go back to the Room of Requirement later and get the book he had been looking at before he came down to the library.

Of course he had wanted Zabini to come with him there, but...

'If she wants to search for books in here, like this, far be it from me to stop her,' he thought with a smirk.

He then proceeded to write.

_Today_:

_Met with Blaise Zabini in library. Refused to relocate to the Room of Req. _

_Note to self: next time explain why I want to go there. For future reference: she is a girl. Rather unexpected considering the name. Slytherin, dark hair, brown eyes, friends with Avery boy. General nature... _

Harry paused again and furrowed his brow. He looked toward where Blaise was scanning the shelves of books with rapidly shifting eyes. A small, blond, Ravenclaw girl approached her from behind and tapped her on the shoulder.

In an instant the Slytherin had her wand out and the Ravenclaw backed up in alarm. When she saw who it was the girl put her wand away and bent down a bit to look the much shorter girl in the eye.

Harry felt the outer edges of his lips quirk in the beginnings of a smile. 'So Slytherins have hearts too,' he thought, 'Ron will never believe me.'

But then Blaise said something to the girl, staring her straight in the eye. The tiny Ravenclaw backed up in alarm so fast her back hit the bookshelf behind her and in a flurry of movement she knocked a book off the shelf and ran back to her table of friends.

'Alright,' Harry thought as the blonde hair little girl ran past his table sniffling, 'nix the "Slytherins with hearts" theory.'

His eyes remained on Blaise. She bent further down, picked up the book that had fell, replaced it on the shelf and turned back to the books she had been looking at as though the entire thing had never happened.

With wide eyes Harry stared blankly for a moment and finally cast his emerald eyes back down to his journal.

'General nature' was where he had left off and without another thought he quickly filled it in with one word written in shining maroon ink.

_Hostile_.

Then, smirking as he listened to three other Ravenclaws comfort their sobbing friend he added, _Proceed with caution_.

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End Chapter 4

_Last modified- October 2nd_

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Author's Notes: Alright, well that was it! I hope you all enjoyed the highly anticipated Chapter Four and please do remember to review.

I am sorry to say that I cannot promise that a wait like this one between chapters won't happen again. I know, I know... put down the rotten tomatoes! All I can say is blame it on my silly AP teachers and all those damn colleges that want you to fill out applications before they let you in.

So yes, I am very busy, but I will try my best and that's all I can say. If you are ever wondering when the heck I am going to update you can check my bio in between chapters as I usually have updates at the end of that.

From the last chapter, the quote "Knowledge is Power" was said by Sir Francis Bacon. As promised, brownie points go to those of you who knew that. :)

Until next time.

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	5. The Art of Manipulation

Author: C. Night

Rating: PG-13

Category: Romance/Angst

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Please ask if you want to borrow any of my own situations, characters, and so forth. Thank you.

Author's Notes: I realize that it has been a long while, and that many of you may have to skim through past chapters to get a feel for where we are in the story right now, and for this I am sorry. I've skimmed enough chapters to know how annoying it is. I will try not to let the gaps between chapters get this long again, but sadly I can't make any guarantees. Things are significantly less hectic in my life right now, if that's at all comforting.

Vaguely disappointing news aside, let us all applaud for my beta, _thesteffis_. Yes, this time I say we actually should applaud, for without him there would be far too few commas and the chapter would probably be even later than it already is. So, thanks to him for that.

Enjoy the chapter.

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Title: Inquiring Minds

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* * *

Love comes when manipulation stops; when you think more about the other person than about his or her reactions to you. When you dare to reveal yourself fully.

_Dr. Joyce Brothers_

* * *

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Chapter 5: The Art of Manipulation

'Secrets,' Harry pondered with a smirk, 'may very well be the ultimate key to tormenting Slytherins.'

He continued to consider the idea as he walked, ignoring the muttering coming from behind him.

'Why is it,' the Gryffindor wondered, 'that keeping anything from Blaise Zabini gets under her skin so deeply?'

Over the past few Potions study sessions, Harry had called Zabini some absolutely vile names. Though due to his never-failing Gryffindor honor, he only retorted sharply after he had first been insulted, but nonetheless his insults were rather brutal.

The angry Gryffindor had also showered the girl hundreds of hideous glares and been deliberately annoying. This was all for the sake of making it perfectly clear that he hated her company just as much as she despised his.

And yet, through it all the girl always remains perfectly unfazed; returning insults like a pro and glaring right back at him with her eyes narrowed into tiny slits.

'I'm winning this time though,' Harry noted, his smirk getting larger still.

The thick layer of Zabini nonchalance, that he had hardly been able to make a scratch on (something Harry knew she prided herself on), had today all but shattered.

"I swear to Merlin, Potter, if you don't tell me where we're going right now, I _will_ curse you," came the chilled tones of Blaise Zabini, who was none too happily marching down a deserted hallway after Harry Potter.

"Patience, my dear Slytherin. We're almost there." Harry retorted with a smirk, sarcasm dripping off each word as he relished in this feeling of control.

Blaise stifled a groan from behind him and Harry delighted in it.

'Human reaction,' the boy mused, 'is quite interesting. Why is it bothering her so much to follow instead of lead? If she didn't trust me, she wouldn't have come this far.'

'Although' the Gryffindor amended, 'it did take a preposterous amount of cajoling to get her to leave the library. But I got my way in the end.' A devilish smirk made its way onto his face. 'And Merlin knows, I like getting my way,' Harry thought recalling the numerous times over the past year when he had kicked up a fuss in order to get things changed.

The Gryffindor flinched as he recalled exactly how much begging and pleading, and finally cold threatening, he had to do in order to escape his room on Privet Drive, the room he privately referred to as Precinct 4.

'I've got to learn how to get people to do what I want, without begging them to… maybe even without their knowing that they're doing what I want,' The Gryffindor ruminated as he made the third left turn since the staircase.

'I suppose that could be classified as manipu-' Harry's thought was cut short as a beam of blue light was shot straight into his back. The Gryffindor felt the spell as it sizzled through his body and took hold of all his muscles.

Unable to move, he pitched forward and fell, flat as a board, onto his face.

Zabini, it seemed, was more impatient than he had assumed.

Cold hands turned him over onto his back and Harry found himself staring, hardly able to blink, down the end of a dark mahogany wand.

"Tell me where we're going," Zabini demanded in a frigid tone of voice.

The girl's hair was pulled tightly back from her face and wound into an intricate knot and for an instant Harry recalled the face of Professor McGonagall staring at him, with severe eyes as he tried to explain exactly why he had punched Malfoy after the Quidditch match last year.

Of course, the Slytherin girl didn't have the advantage of being a professor, nor a member of the Order of the Phoenix, and Harry was wholly unimpressed.

Snapping back to the present Harry tried to raise and eyebrow, 'How am I supposed to tell you anything,' he thought scathingly, 'when I can't move my mouth, you bloo-'

Yet again Blaise interrupted his thought when she moved her wand from his eyes to his lips and said quickly, "_Enervate Agnatio Oris_"

Quizzical, Harry tried to move, but found that he still couldn't, "Hey!" he said and as the word escaped his lips he realized that he could talk.

Unfortunately, the rest of him was still under the Body-Bind.

"I didn't know you could do that," the Gryffindor said, amazed, "Where did you learn that?"

"Some of us don't restrict our reading to textbooks, Potter. Now, where. Are. We. Going?" Zabini demanded briskly, her wand jabbing towards him as she spoke.

Harry hesitated. He couldn't very well say the Room of Requirement; it wasn't really something one could explain as easily as it could be shown. But at the Slytherin's hard glare he decided to try.

"Well there's this room. It's not too far from here, actually. Another right turn at the end of this hallway and you're there. And inside-"

"What kind of idiot do you take me for?" Zabini remarked scathingly. "I've attended this school for five full years, and unlike you, I actually _pay attention_ to what's going on around me. Do you think I haven't been down this hallway? I swear Potter, I can't believe I let you and your B.S. about some mystery room that you _knew_ would contain the potions books I need convince me to waste at least ten minutes of my time traipsing around the castle."

The girl stood up sharply and her face twisted into a horrible scowl. She looked as though she had sucked on a lemon and was going to spit the disgusting juice into directly into his face.

"I'm tempted," she slowly remarked, "to leave you right here. It's a rather unused corridor. By the time someone found you, I'd already be safely back in my dorm, leaving Dumbledore and McGonagall with nothing but your word as evidence."

By the end of her statement the girl was nodding to herself and before he could get a word out, she had tucked her wand back into her wrist holster and turned on her heel to leave.

Thinking fast, Harry decided to see if he was any good at this manipulation stuff.

Resisting his initial urge to plead with the girl to remove the spell, he stayed silent. His heart beat quickened as the sound of Blaise's heels against the marble grew steadily fainter.

But then his hope was restored when she abruptly stopped walking.

"I suppose you've come up with some half-baked story to tell Dumbledore that he would undoubtedly shallow whole," Blaise's voice came from a few feet away. "That man would believe you if you said Longbottom was plotting to take over the world and make Draco his love queen. Stupid Golden Boy crap."

Had Harry not been focusing on perfecting his attempt at manipulation he would have snorted at the images the girl was coming up with.

Her footsteps were drawing closer once more.

"Indubitably, your crackpot story would land me in detention and Severus would drag me for a lecture. The year's just started and I already got detention from Sinistra for making some rather… unsavory comments about the position of Orion's belt in relation to Uranus," the girl muttered with a snicker.

"Really it's the Averys' fault," the girl was talking to herself now, Harry realized, "Who names their children after stars anyway? There are only about _five million_ nasty remarks that are just begging to be made."

Harry had stopped listening at "Who names their children after stars?" His thoughts had immediately gone to Sirius and he felt himself grow cold.

If you follow the line made by Orion's belt, the boy recalled vaguely, you'll be sure to find Sirius - the Dog Star.

The brightest star in the night sky.

It had been months, but the mere mention of his godfather caused the boy pain. Over time the pain had evolved. At first it felt as though he had a hollow spot in his chest, but now he seemed to have filled it with dangerously sharp icicles. Each time he thought of Sirius, the hole contracted tightly and the frozen daggers pierced his insides.

Thoughts of Sirius never failed to lead to thoughts of the Department of Mysteries. Undoubtedly his most revoltingly moronic venture yet, each time he thought of it he made himself promise to never let a situation get so beyond his control again.

He would never forget the feeling of complete helplessness that seized him when he realized the mess he had gotten his friends into and the stinging remorse that pinched at his heart whenever he thought of Sirius's end.

"_Finite Incantatem_."

The words were said from above him and Harry felt his muscles instantly relax. For a moment he allowed himself to melt into the cold floor beneath him, his green eyes darkened by the shadows of past failures come to haunt him.

Finally, without a word to Blaise, he stood and made his way to the Room of Requirement. Without even thinking about it, he stuck to his little plan and walked a bit past the patch of brick on which the door to the room would appear.

Blaise ended up standing right in front of the blank wall.

Harry turned his dark eyes on the Slytherin who had been about to make yet another "unsavory comment" about Gryffindor stupidity and said sharply, "What led you to follow me here? What did you imagine when I said there was a room that had all the books you wanted in it? What did you, in that one instant, wish for?"

Blaise's scowl returned, but before she could say anything a door appeared out of the stone wall. The door was of a dark colored wood stylishly shaped and cut; the knob was of elegantly molded silver.

Distracted for a moment, Harry let his dark reflections rest. Now he was curious. Just what had she been hoping for?

His eyes moved from the door to the girl who was staring at it as though she scarcely believed what she was seeing.

"Go on then," Harry said softly and Blaise's eyes turned to him, startled.

For an instant Harry saw her brown eyes without their usual layer of ice. Without the frigid coating, he found that they were quiet revealing.

But before Harry could examine exactly what was there to see, Blaise had turned away and placed her hand on the knob.

As she pushed it down and slipped the door open Harry moved to stand behind her and they both inhaled sharply when the inside of the room was revealed.

* * *

"Impressive," Minerva McGonagall noted dryly as she entered the room behind a wide-eyed Tonks, "Ms. Zabini has quite the imagination."

"She did not imagine this on her own," Snape observed crisply as he entered the elegant room. "If I recall correctly, this is the exact library that is in the west wing of the Zabini ancestral home in Italy."

"Her father," Snape continued as he moved closer to Blaise, gauging her reaction, "doesn't allow her inside it."

There was a momentary pause because Tonks spoke up.

"Why?" the Auror asked as she peered into Harry's face. The young woman was starting to get over her fear of the memory-Harry turning to her and dryly requesting that she please stop staring.

"Because the contents of the books in this library are not all very suitable for Ms. Zabini's perusal and though it was news to Potter, anyone who knows Blaise knows that she is always looking for a new book of spells to learn or Potions to experiment on.

"I suspect," the Potion's Master said softly as he perused the titles on the shelves, "that her father didn't want her to blow herself up trying to alter the ingredients of a Marrow Melting Potion."

Mad-Eye Moody looked around the room silently, thinking that it looked like a prime place to hide some dark artifacts. He wondered exactly where this ancestral home was in Italy and how soon he could get a team of Aurors over there to investigate.

Before he could give the idea some more thought Dumbledore had placed one of his wrinkled hands on the ex-Auror's shoulders.

"Let's remain focused, shall we?" the old headmaster said with a smile, but Moody couldn't help but notice that the man's blue eyes were darting around the room, taking in its every detail as well.

Despite its beauty, the small library did have an ominous air about it.

* * *

"This is," Harry began as his eyes darted around the miniature library before him, "nice."

"Nice?" Blaise echoed softly as she looked around. The room was exactly as she remembered it from the first and only time she'd been able to sneak into it.

She had been about twelve at the time. The summer right before her second year she and her father had elected that they spend her vacation at the mansion in Italy. It wasn't the first time they had gone, but it was the first time that the young girl had managed to find the second library her father had told her never to look for and never to enter.

The girl had been surprised to find that there were no wards on the beautiful door leading into the room and practically squealed in delight as she closed the door behind her.

The floor of the rectangular shaped room was white marble with thousands of flecks of black in it that seemed to shift under the light from the moon. Directly opposite the door was a large window that took up about half of the dark gray painted wall and beneath that was a black fireplace with a highly polished mantle.

There were only about six bookshelves in the room, which left Blaise feeling a bit put off. But there were two pitch black armchairs and a round table in the center of the room, before the fireplace, evenly dividing the bookshelves.

The chairs gave the girl the impression that these books were the sort that would leave you so captivated that chairs had to be put in the room for when you were utterly enthralled and unable to wait to continue reading one of the tomes.

Sadly, before Blaise had been able to even touch one of the books, her father had come storming into the room, proving that there had indeed been some slyly hidden wards on the door. The furious man nearly fractured her wrist as he dragged her from the room, already in full lecture mode before the door had even closed.

After her severe reprimand and punishment Blaise hadn't been stupid enough to go look for it again. Or at least not while her father was home… she was a Slytherin after all.

Blaise was brought back from her thoughts when she realized that Potter was staring at her. Feeling more relaxed and the tiniest bit giddy Blaise stared right back. "So tell me, Potter, just what story were you going to feed Dumbledore about how I had attacked you in the hall?"

Potter smirked (yes, smirked!) at her as he moved lazily toward the bookshelves. "There was no story. You were absolutely correct the first time, there was no evidence and the Headmaster never would have been able to do anything to you because of that."

Blaise narrowed her eyes, her former happiness slowly leaving her. Before she could get too riled, Potter said, "I'm afraid you gave my sway with the Headmaster a bit too much credit. Not that I was about to correct you."

Blaise stared at the Gryffindor who was now giving her an easy smile. The still somewhat miffed girl quickly tried to think of exactly how she could turn this situation around on him, a way to steal his victory away.

"That was quite Slytherin of you, Potter, I'm sure you realize." Blaise looked away from Harry, sure that the comment would put a stricken look on his face. Thus, the girl didn't see Harry's unusual response to the comment.

The boy merely raised an eyebrow and It was Blaise's turn to smile as a bit of a crestfallen look came across the Gryffindor's face.

Satisfied with her triumph, the girl moved toward the bookshelves. Her curiosity was now impossible to stifle. As she approached she wondered if the books would be the ones actually in the library or the books that she had "wished for" as Potter had put it.

As she reached the first bookshelf and found herself staring at copies of _Most Potente Potions_ and _Dangerous Draughts for the Risk Taking Healer_, the exact two books she had been wishing weren't in the restricted section of the library when she and Potter had been there earlier, she had her answer.

Picking up the copy of _Dangerous Draughts,_ she asked Potter, who was running his fingers over the spines of books in the next bookshelf, "You want to tell me how this room works and more importantly, how you know about it?"

"Do I want to?" Potter began, his annoyingly sly smile back in place. Blaise opened her mouth to reply but before she could beat his ego into submission, the Gryffindor proceeded to explain the properties of the Room of Requirement.

It didn't escape Blaise's notice that he neglected to mention how he had discovered the room, but she found she didn't really care once she found the Chirurgia Serum described in detail in the book in her hand.

Absently she moved from the shelf to one of the black chairs before the fireplace, setting _Most Potente Potions_ on the table before her, opening to the chapter on The Serum in _Dangerous Draughts_ as she did so.

"This project just got a great deal easier, wouldn't you say?" Potter said smugly as she brought over three more books, laid two on the table, and began to scan the third.

Blaise narrowed her eyes and looked up, "You've saved us an extra day or two, Potter, but if this book is anything to go by, this Potion is going to be virtually impossible to modify, as is our assignment."

Harry's eyes widened the tiniest bit and he slowly asked, "Why would it be so hard to change?"

"The Chiruria Serum," Blaise began, "is an 'obscure potion' mainly for the reason that it doesn't produce the desired effect on everyone. The potion, as we found out, is supposed to work as a sedative as well as a type of anesthesia. In some people it does have the desired effect; in others though, it doesn't."

Almost afraid to ask, the Gryffindor bit his bottom lip, "What does it do?"

Blaise chuckled darkly, "Nothing too horrible I assure you. There are typically two reactions to the potion outside of the intended numbness and painkilling effect. The first is described by this book as a sort of 'hyperawareness.'

"While the person under the influence of the serum cannot feel anything, one of their other senses is heightened to sometimes dangerous levels. I'm sure you'll be able to find records of someone under the potion claiming that sounds were magnified about 100 fold - so much so that they were crying out in pain at as much as a peep."

Harry winced in sympathy and looked down at the book in his hands: _First Hand Accounts: Effects of So-Called Healing Potions._ Suddenly he was a bit more interested in reading it. Before he could open the book, Blaise was continuing.

"The second effect is a bit more," here the girl paused and looked up from the book she had been staring at, "odd. Supposedly those who experience this reaction to the potion become a bit…lost in themselves. No one who has ever experienced it says a word while under the potion. At first the Healers assumed that the anesthetic effect had taken hold and proceeded with their painful surgeries or complex healing rituals only to discover that the patient was aware and feeling the entire time."

Harry inhaled sharply and stood up. He paced as he said, "You mean to tell me that some of these people were in excruciating pain, but were too 'lost in themselves' to say anything. To scream, to do… anything."

"Yes," Blaise responded calmly from her seat, "The doctors only discovered that the pain had never been numbed when the Potion wore off and the patients were experiencing extremely painful after effects and had to be given a great deal of relief potions. After several of those incidents, Healers decided that it was too much of a risk to use the Potion as they were never sure which effect it was having on a patient. They stopped using the potion and the Chirurgia Serum fell into obscurity as Healers reverted to using stupefying charms and sleeping potions on patients."

"Good riddance," Harry said bitingly as he sat back down.

"Merlin, Potter, don't you see? The entire reason the potion was used as often as it was that for some people it was a miracle potion. It had the combined effect of a numbing potion and a healing potion. For those it worked properly on, the Chirurgia Serum allowed them to go through a life threatening procedure with no lingering pains, no daily doses of pain relief potions. Nothing! They were in and out."

Blaise ran her hands along the sides of the book in her lap. She looked as though she was itching to get up and hit him with it, "Potions Masters have slaved away over this serum for years trying to change the ingredients so that it would produce that effect on everyone, but always came up short! Why? Mainly because no one knows why it could work one way on me and a different way on you - it's a mystery that has puzzled the very masters of the subject for decades!"

The two sat in silence for a long few minutes. Finally Harry groaned, "Trust Snape to give us a Potion that no body has ever been able to adjust."

Blaise looked up sharply, "I said that no one has ever been able to fix it. Adjusting it, I'm sure is possible. Just incredibly difficult, given how volatile the ingredients are. _Professor_ Snape," the girl said laying heavy emphasis on the title, "is giving us the chance to experiment and push ourselves. He's encouraging us to expand our knowledge which, if I recall correctly, is exactly what a Professor is hired to do."

"Yes, well we should send our congratulations to _the Professor_, then, shouldn't we? As this must be the first time the man has ever done 'exactly what a Professor is hired to do'," Harry said with an edge to his voice, but catching Blaise's glare, he quickly reached over for a book and looked up the Serum in the index.

Across from him, Blaise took a long roll of parchment from her bag and began to copy notes from her books.

And for a long while, there was silence broken only by the turning of pages and the scratching of a quivering quill.

* * *

Orange eyes watched as a pair of green eyes scanned the pages of a large volume wearily.

And as yawn number twenty-three slipped past the lips of one sleepy Harry Potter, Nymphadora Tonks decided that she was getting sick of this.

They hadn't been watching long. In fact, when the Auror thought about it, Dumbledore has said that time was passing much slower in the world outside the Perlustrare, so really they had watched a few days and couple of sessions in probably less than one hour.

But the young Metamorphmagus couldn't help but feel annoyed; so far her soap opera dreams had been a bust.

Where was the fiery romance?

The lust-filled stares?

And more importantly, where was Theodore Nott in all of these annoyingly non-romantic recollections.

So caught up in her thoughts, it took the young Auror a moment to notice that Dumbledore had begun fast forwarding through the memory.

'Thank Merlin,' she thought, relieved if not a bit nauseous as she watched Harry and Blaise turn pages and scribble things down in hyper speed.

Harry had apparently become interested in their assigned Potion after the two had discussed it, and it seemed as if they had let this session go on for hours.

Dumbledore slowed the memory down as the two exchanged extraordinarily brief farewells and Blaise made one last parting shot to which Harry responded with a cool stare and a clever retort.

Tonks' last glimpse of the memory before it faded into the next was of the girl summoning a few more books off a shelf, curling herself further into the couch and lighting the fireplace with a flick of her wand.

It appeared Severus was right about Blaise's reading obsession. The girl appeared to be settling in for an evening of reading, even after all the time she had just spent studying with Harry.

The next time Harry and Blaise saw each other was in class, where they glanced each other's way purely by accident, and then a day or so later when they both reached McGonagall's desk at the same time to obtain a salamander to transfigure.

The next time, though, was a bit more interesting.

* * *

"So then I told the whiny little brat to take her problems to someone else, as I was certainly in no position to help her. Honestly, when a second year has the audacity to come up to me and ask for _advice_ of all things, I know I've lost my touch," Orion Avery said with a smirk as he walked beside Blaise.

The girl smirked, giving a Hufflepuff a bit of a shove to the side as she kept pace with the taller boy's longer strides.

"I assume," Blaise said, her words laced with amusement, "that you took the opportunity to refer the _little darling_ to someone else."

"Of course," Orion promptly responded, "I patted her little head and pointed her in the direction of the nearest prefect."

Blaise stopped walking for a moment and stared at Orion, fighting the smile that threatened to creep onto her face.

Orion seemed to have anticipated her move for he stopped walking a second after Blaise had, causing a third year Ravenclaw to stumble as he stopped short to avoid a collision.

The post-dinner crowd bustled around the two sixth year Slytherins who had stopped to talk in the middle of the crowded entrance hall.

"Was it my fault that the nearest prefect happened to be one Draco Malfoy?" Orion finished and Blaise was biting her lips to keep from laughing.

"You should have seen it Blaise," the boy continued aware of her struggle against laughter and determined that she lose it. "The girl goes skipping up to Malfoy, chipper as you please, and yanks on his sleeve. Mind you, darling little Draco had just had a - shall we call it a tender rendezvous with one Pansy Parkinson - so he was a bit more finely dressed than usual.

"So he turns around," Orion continued, now acting out the scene in the middle of the entrance hall which was steadily clearing, "and looks at this girl who unknowingly had yanked his sleeve so hard that one of his precious diamond cufflinks fell off. Before the little twit realized what she did he was letting loose with the profanities. I swear you'd think the girl had just killed his father.

"'How dare you even touch me, you filthy little Mudblood! That cufflink, I'll have you know, is worth more than your life!'" Orion imitated with grandiose gestures that finally had Blaise laughing with abandon at the gestures which were a spot on imitation of Draco.

Orion smirked at the sight of the girl laughing.

To Harry who had watched the entire scene from the top of the staircase, it was the most gentle and oddly soft smirk he had ever seen.

The Gryffindor had passed the two on the staircase, on his way back to the Tower after dinner with Ron and Hermione, when he recalled something he had needed do.

Hermione was a bit late for a Potions session with Malfoy so she had no objections and said goodbye before rushing off to the library. Ron though, had offered to come with him until he heard that Harry had to ask his Potions partner about something.

The red-haired boy had been steadfastly pretending that the project did not exist and at any mention of it, he recalled something else he had to do.

This time it was something to do with History, Harry didn't care too much to find out what, as he knew that whenever he got back to the common room he was going to find Ron playing chess.

The raven haired boy smiled at the thought of his friend, so predictable it was endearing.

After Ron left, Harry elected to just wait at the top of the stairs for the two Slytherins to come up. The Gryffindor had frowned at their cruel remarks, but honestly couldn't help but find the Orion's whole reenactment kind of funny, though obviously not as funny as Blaise had found it.

Harry watched slightly amazed as the girl had finally let go and laughed. He had been working with her for a bit over three weeks on their potions project and he had never seen her laugh before.

He felt some unidentifiable emotion well inside him as he listened to her carefree laugh. He certainly wouldn't call it desire, he knew what that felt like, thanks very much. This was a bit of... was it envy? But of what? It wasn't as if he didn't laugh.

Perhaps it was annoyance. Why was it that she had to make things so difficult between the two of them all the time? She obviously had somewhat of a sense of humor, why couldn't she ever lighten up when they were working together?

Yes, Harry decided, it was definitely annoyance.

"The absolute funniest shit I'd seen in a long time. If I was a prefect I would give myself ten points just for setting up something that funny," Orion was saying to Blaise as the pair finally made their way up the stairs.

"Well it's a good thing you aren't a prefect," Harry couldn't help but reply as the two made their way closer to him.

Blaise had still been smiling as she walked up the stairs beside Orion, but the smile immediately left her face when she heard him speak. "Yes," she quickly quipped, "or that'd be twenty points from Gryffindor for eavesdropping. It's a punishable offense, Potter.

"But perhaps we'll let this one slide," the Slytherin girl continued, "as you were obviously driven by your distinct _lack of a life_ to listen in on the conversations of people who actually discuss things other than Quidditch and Exploding Snap."

"Touché," Orion commented from Blaise's left as the two continued to glare at each other. "I assume, Potter, that you have something to discuss with your Potions pal here, so I'll leave you two to it, shall I?"

"Orion," Blaise muttered darkly under her breath, her eyes still on Harry's.

"Sorry, _darling,_" the boy drawled, "but I've got a massively long History of Magic essay to do. You're perfectly capable of giving him hell on your own. Later, Blaise."

With that parting remark Orion continued down the hall and made the turn leading to the Slytherin common room.

'Perhaps there actually was History homework,' Harry pondered vaguely, but he was distracted when Blaise pushed past him and continued walking down the hall towards Slytherin.

"Wait, Blaise," Harry started, but stopped when the girl turned around and leveled him with a glare.

"Call me Blaise one more time and I'll make you eat your tongue. Got it, Potter?"

"Merlin," Harry replied trying to reign in his annoyance as he followed her down the hall, "There's no need to be so hostile. Look… I'm sorry."

The Gryffindor appeared to believe those words would spark some reaction in the Slytherin, but she kept walking.

"Zabini, you have to stop. First of all, because you're leading me directly to your common room," Harry informed her with a smirk.

The girl immediately stopped moving.

"And second," Harry continued as he backtracked a bit to stand in front of her, "because I need to ask you a favor."

"A favor, Potter? You may have the rest of the world eating out of the palm of your hand, but let me tell you the day I do you a favor is the day-"

"Come on!" Harry interrupted the girl. "I know it's a lot to ask, but you're my Potions partner and we're supposed to be able to go to each other for help in Potions, right?"

"Where's your Muggle-born encyclopedia?" Blaise replied scathingly.

"_Hermione_'s working on her assignment with Malfoy, and plus," the boy said with an odd tone to his voice, "I need someone to explain the Potions we need to know for tomorrow's test, not preach at me."

"So Granger can't teacher, huh?" the Slytherin said getting a bit too much enjoyment out of the idea than Harry thought was normal.

"Yeah well when you explain things about our Potion to me I seem to understand them. So I thought I'd give it a shot. I can't afford to do bad on this test, not when my spot in the class is on the line," Harry said, a frown marring his features as he thought of what Snape would say if he failed the first test.

"Did you ever think, Potter that you getting kicked out of the class would make my day?" Blaise said in soft and dangerous tones, "I could do this project on the Chirurgia Serum alone and probably get an even better grade than I am going to now because I wouldn't have you bothering me all the time to explain things."

"Well, did you ever think," Harry returned darkly, "that it would look particularly bad if Dumbledore, who obviously designed this whole inter-house partners project, noticed that the partner of the best Potions student in the class flunked out of it?"

"Are you implying that your pet Headmaster would blame _me_ for _your_ failure?" Blaise remarked her fists clenching at her sides.

"Not at all, Zabini," Harry said darkly, "I'm just noting the fact that it wouldn't really look that great."

"Fine, Potter," the girl said, seriously pissed off, "Get your books and meet me in that room of yours in half an hour. If you are as much as thirty seconds late I'm leaving and you can tell Dumbledore to shove it."

The girl continued to stalk down the corridor and Harry let out a great puff of air he had unknowingly been holding in his mouth.

"That probably wasn't the best way to go about that," the Gryffindor remarked to himself as he turned to head back towards the tower to get his books.

* * *

Twenty-five minutes later Blaise found herself entering the ever-changing Room of Requirement with a few books under her arm and a scowl on her face.

Tonight Potter appeared to have entered the room without thinking about much of anything, as the spell on the room obviously had decided to reflect his mood.

The area was smaller than Blaise would have preferred and the predominate colors of the room and its sparse furnishings were blue, dark brown, and navy.

Presiding in the middle of it all was Harry Potter, sitting on the floor in front of a low table, one hand in his hair and other flipping through a book way too quickly.

"Trying to learn how to speed read, Potter?" Blaise quipped as she entered, "I assure you tomorrow's test will have a lot of questions, but I'm sure reading it won't require that particular skill."

Harry looked up from his Potions text and his eyes lit up in a way that Blaise found decidedly disconcerting.

"I didn't think you'd come," the boy said briskly, standing up to meet the girl's eyes.

"Yes, well, I recalled a comment you made once about my overestimation of your sway with the Headmaster and seriously considered letting you rot in here," Blaise said setting down her books and sitting in a navy armchair easily.

"However, Pansy was ranting on in the dorm about how 'that Mudblood is monopolizing all of her time with Drakey' and I decided that leaving the area, even if it was to come here, was the best course of action."

Seeing Harry's skeptical look Blaise continued, "And I also realized that this tutoring situation would give me perfect license to mock you mercilessly and have it written off as constructive criticism."

Harry smirked a bit and sat back down, now satisfied that she had no hidden agenda. Other than to mock him, of course, but that was a given.

"So what's on this test," the boy said with a sigh as he settled in with a quill and parchment.

Blaise looked at him with a wide smirk and a raised eyebrow, "What? Do you think Professor Snape gives me the tests in advance or something?"

Harry furrowed his brow for a moment and said, "No, but surely _you_ have an idea of what's on it."

"Surely," Blaise mocked him slowly, "_You_ have an idea as well."

"Well, we've covered what? Four potions so far? The first he said was supposed to be review, though let me just say I found that one just as hard as-"

Harry stopped his rambling at Blaise's impatient look.

"Alright, so I suppose it's safe to say that the other three are going to be on this test, but what kinds of questions are there to be asked about Dreamless Sleep, Solidifying Solution, and the Migraine Potion?"

Blaise scoffed, "Well to start, he could ask for their proper names. Do you realize that the potions aren't actually called those three names? Those are the common names which describe what they do for the every day user, yes. But those are not by any stretch what they are referred to by the Potions experts who actually know what they're talking about."

Harry looked down at his notes and sighed, "He had the proper names on the board, but once I found out what they were commonly called, I didn't copy the first ones down."

"Well, then I suggest you crack open that book," Blaise said gesturing with one hand to the book on the low table, "And never make that mistake again. You'd think that after five years you'd have realized that everything Professor Snape writes on the board is worth copying. Exactly as it is."

Harry had the grace to look a bit ashamed, but Blaise was absently looking around the room Harry had created and missed it.

For about an hour, Harry read over his notes and the text on the three potions. He didn't feel as though he was making too much headway and was growing annoyed at his "tutor" who obviously had come down to the room for the exact reason she had stated earlier - to escape Pansy Parkinson.

On the occasions that he actually dared to ask a question, Harry found that it wasn't really worth it as his pride always came back severely bruised. Though, as he chewed on the end of his quill, he wondered why he had expected any better.

Finally, when Harry was trying to memorize the steps to brewing the Dreamless Sleep Potion (properly referred to as the Alucinor Deminuo Potion), he decided to ask a question that he'd always wondered about Potions in general.

"Hey," Harry said, continuing when Blaise looked up from the book in her lap, "Why is it that you have to stir counterclockwise after you add the poppy seeds to this potion? Does it really matter if you stirred clockwise?"

Blaise stared at him for a moment as if trying to see if he was having her on, "This is basic, Potter. Please tell me you're joking." At the boy's blank look she frowned.

"How is it that you're in N.E.W.T. level potions?" she asked scathingly and Harry's infamous temper finally erupted.

"Listen!" the Gryffindor said standing up abruptly, slamming his things together as he spoke.

"I asked you to come here to help me and you agreed to it, yes reluctantly," the boy said forestalling her immediate retort, "But you agreed nonetheless. The least you could do would be to answer one of the only questions I've asked you. Be it _basic_ or not!"

"But apparently," Harry said making his way over to the door, his papers about to fall messily out of his hands, "That's too much to ask of the high and mighty Blaise Zabini!"

Before he reached the door, Harry's quills and books did indeed hit the floor with a messy splatter and the furious boy stared at them for a moment, his face furiously red.

In his anger, Harry pulled out his wand, and with a swift motion, banished the materials against the far wall. The force of the books hitting the wall was immense, and one of them ripped at the seam.

Harry glared at the pieces before turning towards the door, deciding that at this point he'd rather leave without them than gather them together in the presence of Zabini.

Just as his hand hit the doorknob Blaise softly said, "Potter, what is added right before the poppy seeds?"

Confused, Harry turned his head back to face the Slytherin sitting on an armchair facing away from him.

"What?" the boy said.

"Before the poppy seeds. In the Alucinor Deminuo Potion, what comes before the poppy seeds?" the girl asked again in the same quiet tone.

"The sliced mandrake roots?" Harry responded uncertainly, letting his hand fall from the door knob.

"Correct," Blaise said finally turning her head to face the Gryffindor, "And what, if you recall, did the mandrake roots do when added to the solution?"

"They started to, er- fizz. I guess?" Harry responded fumbling over his words a bit.

"Right, they released a gas. Now when the roots were added to the edge of the cauldron the potion was being stirred clockwise. Then the poppy seeds go in and you start stirring counterclockwise. Why would you do that?" Blaise asked her eyes boring directly into his.

"I guess," the boy started, "so that the poppy seeds wouldn't get touched by the, er- gas the roots had just given off. But that couldn't work for too long could it? I mean they are going to touch eventually."

"Right," Blaise said, "which is why you have to-"

"Add the shredded newt skin within thirty seconds of adding the seeds!" Harry said with a light of understanding in his eyes, "I did notice that once we did that the fizzing stopped."

Blaise nodded slowly still staring at the boy in an unnerving manner.

"I guess I didn't realize how detailed the whole process is. Every little thing matters," Harry said slowly.

"That, Potter," Blaise said finally, her normal, biting tone of voice returning at last, 'is why I love Potions."

* * *

After Potter's mind-blowing revelation, Severus Snape watched as Blaise explained to Potter every detail of the brewing of the Alucinor Deminuo Potion.

The little brat actually did seem to understand things a lot better when he knew precisely what was going on and why each ingredient had to be prepared in a certain way.

The Potions Master was frankly amazed at Blaise's patience.

After Potter's initial meltdown he had expected the Slytherin girl to let him storm out of the room and then perhaps hang around to laugh when he eventually came back to retrieve his books.

Instead the girl had answered the question that would start a landslide and basically signed herself up to teach Potter a great deal of information that he should by all means already know.

After the first round of question on Dreamless Sleep Potions, though Blaise had finally handed Potter one of the books she had brought with her which detailed some of the intricacies of preparing the Callosus Solution (commonly known as the Solidfying Solution).

The two then sat in silence as Potter absorbed the new information and Blaise continued to take notes in the margins of a book she was reading.

Finally after a few minutes Blaise said something to Potter that made the Potions Master's heart stop. He really should have seen it coming, but somehow he hadn't.

"Hey, Potter," the brunette said, meeting the bright eyes of her partner over their books, "How adverse would you be to trying the Chirurgia Serum?"

Blaise was going to make Potter her guinea pig.

-

* * *

End Chapter 5

_Last modified- January 31st

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Author's Notes: Ah, the end of another chapter...

Before wrapping up, I wanted to comment on one review I got in which a reader asked how it was that we were able to hear Harry's thoughts (and see things from his perspective) in a memory from Blaise's head. When the Order reviews the memories, they see things from a complete outsider's perspective. The reader, however, essentially goes back in time to the moment the event occurred. Thus, I choose to write from both Harry and Blaise's point of views during these glimpses of the past. I suppose if you think about it, it may be considered a "flaw in the premise," but I intended to do it that way all along, and I'm afraid I'm not going to change it. The comment itself was insightful though.

To those of you who may have got confused by this little spiel… just ignore it, it doesn't really matter all that much.

Thanks for reading & let me know what you thought!

_Next chapter_: the fun starts with the potion, Harry gets a bit more of an attitude, and the invisible seeds of romance finally start blossoming.

Until next time.

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	6. Positively Slytherin

Author: C. Night

Rating: PG-13

Category: Romance/Angst

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Please ask if you want to borrow any of my own situations, characters, and so forth. Thank you.

Author's Notes: I'm not going to say I'm sorry this took so long because, frankly, I'm really tired of saying that. So let's call this one fashionably late and we'll all be happy. Ok? Good.

This chapter was made readable through the generous donation of time made by my beta reader, thesteffis. Send your thanks in that direction. And now… enjoy the chapter.  
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Title: Inquiring Minds  
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* * *

If the lion was advised by the fox, he would be cunning. 

William Blake

* * *

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Chapter 6: Positively Slytherin 

To Harry Potter, the potions storeroom seemed perfect. Well, as perfect as it could be to a boy who didn't necessarily appreciate the subject.

The shelves were stocked alphabetically, each bottle had its own color-coded label, and there was even a perfect little step ladder for the shorter students to use to reach the shelves - everything had its place and could be found there.

But as he looked at Blaise's face as she searched high and low for the ingredients to the Chirurgia Serum, he steadily became aware of one fact: the students' potions store room was a terrible, evil place severely lacking in a variety of ways.

"Of course it isn't here," Blaise muttered to herself as she stood on the tips of her toes to replace a somewhat dusty bottle of salamander tongues.

Harry had asked the girl repeatedly to just use the little step ladder to reach the higher shelves, but each time he was rewarded with a hard look. He only suggested the idea twice before he chose to hold his tongue.

He had been working with Blaise for weeks, and he'd be damned if he wasn't learning that if there was one thing to be careful of with Blaise it was her pride.

Never insult her pride.

If there was something else the Gryffindor had learned, it was that just about half of the things she said aloud in his presence were comments that she neither expected nor wanted an answer to.

It was the first time Harry had ever been in contact with a person who found them self to be a superior partner for conversation than him.

It was a bit of a blow to his own pride to realize that she seemed to prefer to talk to herself out loud than to talk to him.

He did, though, take advantage of the opportunity to mock her constantly for being absolutely insane and talking to herself.

But other times, like right now, he could just tell when even the slightest comment could spur an eruption that he wasn't quite ready for.

"I can't believe it! This is absolute horse shi-" Blaise continued on her rant about the store room, her voice growing louder.

"_Maybe_," Harry cut in loudly trying to keep Blaise from spewing some profanities that may land her in detention (Snape's office wasn't all that far from the store room after all), "We can just wait for instructions from Professor Snape on where to get the ingredients, Zabini."

Blaise snapped her head around to face him, her curly hair twirling about her head in a way that distracted Harry for a second.

He found that he liked it much better when she left her hair down. It made her look less like McGonagall, and more like a regular student - a peer. It was better that way.

"Potter," Blaise answered a bit tiredly as she stared at him, "Do you really think Professor Snape would want us making a volatile solution outside of class?"

Somewhat at ease now that she seemed a bit calmer, Harry shook his head slightly. He was more than willing to admit some weakness now that he had managed to subdue her anger a bit.

The Gryffindor leaned slightly against the shelf behind him, idly running the tips of his fingers over bottles as he watched her.

"He also wouldn't like the fact that you are going to drink it," Blaise added in a silkier tone of voice that told Harry that she couldn't care less at that point what anyone had to say about him drinking that Potion.

It had been about a week since Blaise had made the suggestion to him that he try the Potion and Harry hadn't exactly gotten around to refusing yet.

Blaise, though, seemed to take his noncommittal answer as a yes and now the two were well on their way to brewing the Potion. They had collected just about all of the ingredients with the exception of the pig liver and stewed salamander skin.

Part of Harry wished that the Serum would be like Polyjuice in the fact that it would take forever and a day to brew so that he could use all that time to somehow find a way to sabotage the whole thing.

"Maybe," he said lowly, trying a different tact, "We could just ditch the idea of me trying the serum?"

Blaise quirked an eyebrow and looked to be biting her lips a bit. The sight evoked some vague memory from Harry's head and he remembered that he had seen her bite her lips like that before, but he couldn't recall exactly when or why.

"Nope," the girl answered casually before he could remember anything, "We're brewing it and you, you little pansy, are trying it." Her tone at this point was the ultimate display of imperiousness.

"And if we happened to blow up half the school in the process of brewing this serum… so be it, right? All in the name of _Potions_." Harry answered, his own words laced with sarcasm and topped with a wide smirk.

Blaise, who had turned back to face the bottles, muttering about how out of date the catalogue was, turned around again to face him, "Are you trying to make a point, Potter?" the girl asked with that appeared to be a light smirk on her face and a slight sparkle to her eyes.

Harry felt himself relaxing further at her casual tone; it appeared that they were just playing now. He wondered when that shift had occurred, what he had done that had sparked it.

"Me, make a point, Zabini?" Harry said with a lazy lilt to his voice. "That would imply that you stopped talking to yourself or criticizing the store room long enough to let me finish a sentence. And we both know that that hasn't happened yet.

Blaise snorted and Harry couldn't exactly tell if she was insulted or trying to keep from laughing. She made no further comment as she turned around to search the shelves a bit more.

After a minute or so Harry spoke up, "Why can't we write to an apothecary and order the ingredients?"

The Slytherin girl made no comment and Harry continued to think the idea through aloud.

"We can just write to the one in Diagon Alley. There may even be one in Hogsmeade, I never really looked," the boy said his hand reaching up to rub his eyes in an attempt to remove the dust irritating them.

"You know, we could even drop the name of the potion in the letter and see if it sparks a reaction. You said people had been working on the serum for years, maybe if we're lucky we can milk the apothecary for contacts and find the name of someone who's researched it," Harry concluded.

Blaise, at some point had turned away from the shelves to face Harry, and as he lowered his hands from his still itchy eyes, his emerald eyes met her dark chocolate ones.

"Are you suggesting that we cheat, Potter?" Blaise said with a smirk.

The girl had anticipated a certain reaction from the Gryffindor as she uttered the words, a vehement denial or shocked outrage and an explanation; but that wasn't what she got.

Potter said nothing to her for a moment. He just lowered his head. Finally, he tilted his eyes up a bit and said, his voice a whisper yet still amused, "It's only cheating if you get caught."

Both of Blaise's eyebrows shot up. She couldn't help it.

"Potter," the girl said, having difficulty hiding the shock in her voice, "that is positively Slytherin of you."

Much to Blaise's astonishment, a half-smile graced Potter's lips at the words. To say that she was caught off guard by that reaction would have been a huge understatement.

* * *

"Perfect little Gryffindor, indeed," Severus muttered. 

To say that the Potion's Master was pleased with the proof before his very eyes that Potter was just as much the careless rule breaker that he had always known wouldn't have given justice to his feelings.

He was elated, and he showed it as he walked over to the Headmaster to have a few gloating words with him.

Minerva on the other hand was staring at the Perlustrare Harry with astonishment and disapproval practically dripping from her eyes like tears. Prying her eyes away from Harry she looked to the person closest to her: Tonks.

Much to the Transfiguration professor's surprise the young Auror looked about as happy as Snape. "What is it?" she asked the woman, unable to hold in her curiosity.

"Can't you see it?" the Auror said her carrot colored irises gleaming with excitement.

When the Professor blinked owlishly at the question the Auror continued, "He _likes_ her" the young woman said, giddily drawing out the word "likes," and giving it a sing-song quality.

Minerva furrowed her brow and Tonks continued, "Now I don't know exactly how Harry feels about cheating, but given that Blaise is a Slytherin, her feelings on the subject are pretty much a given. He's saying exactly what she wants to hear."

Minerva, beginning to understand, nodded her head slowly. It had been quite a while since she had participated in the ritual stages of the beginning of a relationship. In fact, it had been years, and despite the fact that she was in a school with children exploring those stages each and every day, she had forgotten them.

The Deputy Headmistress was beginning to understand why having Tonks along was a very good idea. She gave the girl in question a tight lipped smile only to find that she was analyzing the couple before her who had started to talk about apothecaries.

"He doesn't even realize that he's doing it," Tonks muttered with an odd smile as she watched Harry explore his Slytherin side.

Minerva tried to think back to Harry the beginning of they year and realized that around the time of the year they were reliving, Harry's inner turmoil and personality shifts had been impossible to ignore.

He had been completely torn up by the loss of Sirius at the end of the last term and he'd been acting however he pleased, regardless of how he affected those around him, for weeks.

It was funny that as she watched these memories she'd hardly seen any of the vicious antagonism and biting anger which had worried her so much at the start of the year.

In fact, she remembered worrying a great deal until…

With a start McGonagall realized that she couldn't place the time of year that she'd stopped worrying about Harry. Somewhere along the line he'd just gotten better and no one, absolutely no one, had thought to question it.

Everyone assumed that someone else had managed to break through to him. She herself had vaguely supposed that the trusty Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley had somehow made a breakthrough with their friend even while they struggled through the beginnings of their own budding romance.

The professor stared avidly at Blaise, who was sitting on the floor of the potions storeroom with Harry. The brunette was using the room's step ladder as a makeshift table on which she was writing a letter to send to an apothecary.

Harry was sitting beside her, leaning back on his hands and lazily inserting a comment every now and then.

Minerva wondered if doing things like this with him and treating him as if he was not only unimportant, but beneath her notice was how Blaise had broken through to Harry.

Because whether the young Slytherin knew it or not, Blaise Zabini had helped Harry Potter out his grief.

Of this, the professor now had no doubt.

* * *

Harry walked lazily out of the library wondering tiredly why it was that he was mysteriously incapable of transfiguring a shoe into a kitten. It hardly made sense that he was able to transfigure one into a dog and yet not a cat. 

For a minute he really felt like caving and asking Hermione about it. The Gryffindor sighed and decided to give his problem some more thought before he resorted to the resident Gryffindor study buddy.

He was pondering the exact differences between dogs and cats that he might attribute his block to when he was grabbed harshly by the collar and pulled into a dark corner of the hallway.

His wand was at the ready and six curses were on his lips by the time he was let go seconds later. What Harry found when he turned, though, was not at all what he expected.

It was Blaise Zabini, somewhat red-faced, but her embarrassment was overshadowed by her exuberant smile. Before he could properly pass out from shock, she was explaining in an excited whisper, "He _wrote_ back!"

Harry stared at her in confusion as he slowly put his wand away, but she didn't even stop to mock his ignorance.

"The apothecary," she gushed, "the one in Hampshire. I told you which one I was sending the letter to before. I remember because when I said it you mentioned that you lived in Surrey, just a county over."

Harry looked at her quietly, surprised that she remembered all that, and absolutely astonished that she was even listening when he mentioned where he lived with the Dursleys.

She certainly hadn't looked like she was paying him any mind.

"But anyway," she continued "He wrote back. He sent us not only the pig's liver and the stewed salamander skin, but also some heliconia. We're going to have to send him a few sickles to pay for it, but he says that it's the best catalyst for the moonstone that is a pretty huge component of the base of the serum.

"I never would have thought of heliconia, I mean it's a pretty random tropical plant. Never would have crossed my mind and getting it would have been-"

"Blaise, relax!" Harry said unable to hide the smile on his face. Much to his surprise the Slytherin smiled back as she stopped her excited fidgeting.

The smile slipped right off his face though when he got a good look at the girl. Somehow she managed to look absolutely exhausted and yet full of energy and excitement at the same time.

"When did this letter come?" Harry asked trying to get a sense of the last time the girl had slept or ate or…breathed properly.

"About a day and a half ago," Blaise responded her excitement returning, "And I was really surprised that he got back to us that fast. Shockingly what you said about Potions experts responding to mentions of the Serum was right because I'm sure he had tons of other things to do. Mr. Raynold is fairly renowned for his discovery of-"

"When was the last time you ate?" Harry cut in, loudly interrupting the excited Slytherin.

"What?" Blaise asked, the beginnings for a sneer appearing on her face.

"You know, food?" Harry said with a smile.

Blaise immediately frowned, "What are you? My keeper?"

"No," Harry responded, "But I'm conc-"

Blaise looked right into his eyes when he almost slipped and after a moment said, "You're what?"

"I'm not going to work on the potion with you until you eat something," Harry responded without the tiniest inflection of emotion in his voice.

"Fine," Blaise responded, her tone equally hard, "If you think I need you to make this Serum, you're greatly overestimating your abilities in Potions and underestimating mine."

"Ah, but, Blaise, half the ingredients are in my trunk."

Foreseeing her response that she could buy them herself, Harry continued. "Plus, exactly who would take notes on the effects of the Potion if you were forced to take it yourself because you didn't have a guinea pig to test it on anymore?" Harry asked with a satisfied smirk.

Blaise was quietly fuming, but after a minute replied, "Fine. I'll eat, but don't start thinking that you can hold this testing the serum business over me. I can always trick someone else into taking it; I'd just prefer you to experience the Serum."

Remembering the sometimes painful effects of the Chirurgia Serum, Harry paled and Blaise began to walk away.

Blaise had walked about five steps down the hall before she turned around and said,

"And stop calling it a potion, you idiot, it's a serum."

Another five steps and the girl tossed over he shoulder, "And _stop_ calling me Blaise!"

"It's funny that," Harry replied with a slight smile, his fears of the serum still plaguing his mind, "I honestly thought Blaise was your name."

Blaise apparently chose not to respond to that as she continued down the hall without comment.

One afternoon a couple of days later Harry was sitting with Blaise in an abandoned classroom. The supplies that the Room of Requirement would automatically provide, the two had decided, would probably have to remain in the room which may pose a problem. They had thus decided to adopt a new meeting place for the brewing which, according to their books, would take about 2 weeks.

Blaise was slowing stirring the barely started Chirurgia Serum and Harry was taking notes in his leather notebook on the letter the apothecary, Mr Raynold, had sent them.

Or at least that is what he told her that he was doing. The letter was sitting beside his little journal and he was glancing at it every now and then, (the man had been kind enough to send them a good deal on the Serum that was mysteriously absent from the books they had read) but he wasn't really taking notes on it.

_It's almost Halloween now,_ Harry wrote in Gryffindor red ink.

_I mention that because Ron isn't speaking to me. It was odd to walk into the Great Hall, see the decorations, and not have anyone to comment on them with. He's not talking to me over something I said to Hermione. She made some comment about Sirius, I can barely even remember it now, and let's just say I responded none too favorably. _

_In a way I guess I'm better than last year because now I don't make a spectacle of myself. I'm perfectly capable of containing my anger enough to keep from jumping up and yelling. _

_My insults and angry declarations are delivered with much more calm… if you can call that an improvement. The thing is though; I really have little desire to improve much more than that. I already apologized to Hermione and she accepted, but we both know that it wasn't all that heart felt on either end._

_She has to stop hassling me about Sirius and my feelings. If I hear her talk about repressed emotion one more time I'll say some things she won't ever want to forgive me for. _

_Ron is, I'm sure, going to forgive me tonight at dinner or maybe tomorrow at breakfast. He always does and much quicker now that Hermione's got a firmer hold on him._

_I already have my bet in with Seamus for exactly when they'll become a couple and then another one for when they'll announce it as if the rest of us didn't know. But I'm tempted to move it up in light of how quickly he's been forgiving me lately. _

_Blaise has stopped stirring and is staring deep into the cauldron as if she's looking for the meaning of life. I've never seen someone so enamored with a subject like Blaise is with Potions._

_Hermione is enthusiastic about every subject, but when it comes to Blaise and Potions she makes Hermione look uninterested. _

_The girl becomes a completely different person when something great happens with this Potion- oh excuse me- with our Serum. It's a rather funny being around her when that happens…you can literally feel her excitement and happiness as if it was your own.

* * *

_

Severus Snape had always thought it was rather funny to watch Blaise's excitement when she found out something knew about a Potion or an ingredient. He nearly smiled due to it on some occasions, but he would never describe the experience quite the way Potter had.

Listening to Mad- Eye reading, over Potter's shoulder, the words the Gryffindor had written in his notebook, he realized that the brat was experiencing Blaise in an entirely different way than most everyone else did.

It certainly might explain why oftentimes when Blaise said things to Potter that would send most others running, the insufferable Gryffindor would stare at her in abject fascination before mustering up something to say back.

The Potions Master scowled as Blaise and Potter began talking in the memory he was viewing. The brat had called her by her first name again and she hadn't caught it.

Potter, however, seemed to be waiting for a rebuke and smiled when it didn't come.

This was going to be the way Potter got to Blaise, Severus realized - repeated insolence. He was going to go against what she was used to, what she wanted or expected of him, until she either stopped caring or stopped noticing.

Severus stared at his goddaughter with a deep frown. He wondered if she was going to figure out what he was doing.

The little brat was proving to be a different breed than even he had ever suspected and Potter had already managed to get Blaise to do several things she hadn't planned on. He'd even managed to get her to concede a few minor points.

As slight as those points had been, though, it had Severus concerned. Blaise was never one to back down.

As he watched Blaise pick up her spoon to continue stirring the serum, he started to feel a touch of anxiety over the solution bubbling in the cauldron.

What if Potter the guinea pig had something up his sleeve regarding the serum as well?

* * *

Their meetings had become infrequent as they brewed the Chirurgia Serum. For periods of a few days the Potion often needed simply to simmer. 

As Blaise was the more experienced brewer, she sometimes insisted, in the owls he sent regarding their meetings, that Potter not come anywhere near the Potion or even her while she worked on it.

Blaise took the time to catch up on the subjects she had been somewhat neglecting in favor of researching the Serum. Harry took the time to figure out how to wiggle his way out of taking the Serum.

He'd tried various ways of trying to dissuade Blaise from her brilliant idea of him trying the serum, but none of them had worked. The way he saw it he was either going to have to drink that serum or get another partner, which quite frankly, wasn't really an option.

His concerns now were first, how the serum would manifest itself within him and second, how Blaise would handle the power of observing him under the serum.

Harry was fairly certain that the Slytherin wouldn't simply take notes on him, despite what she had to say about it.

He'd seen a couple of different sides to Blaise over the past weeks; however he hadn't forgotten the fact that she was, first and foremost, a Slytherin. And despite what the Sorting Hat sang about each year, Slytherins had a good deal of malice and hatred in their hearts and so the young man knew he couldn't trust her.

Thus, Harry decided that he would take the Serum, it would make the project a good deal easier after all, but he wouldn't have Blaise taking notes on him.

If he got one of the easier results to deal with, such as the intended numbness or the sensation of being "lost in himself," he figured he could take notes on that himself after the serum wore off.

It was the heightened sense thing he was worried about. What if he took the serum and the scratching of Blaise's quill drove him insane with agony? He had the feeling that she might be the type to test his limits for the sake of discovering more about the effects of the serum.

At least if he experienced the effect of one of his senses being heightened alone, there wouldn't be anyone to make noises or anything to upset him too badly.

So Blaise had to somehow be taken out of the equation on the day of the testing. For two weeks, Harry spent his time figuring out how to do that.

On the Friday evening they had chosen to test the complete, and according to Blaise, perfect, Chirurgia Serum, Harry was pacing the Room of Requirement nervously.

When Blaise suggested they return to the room on the date of the testing as it would be able to adapt best to whatever happened to Harry, it had made him feel a bit better about his plan.

Now that the date had arrived however, all he could feel was terrified. A small vial of Dreamless Sleep Potion sat in his pocket and with each step he took the Gryffindor felt it press against his thigh.

He wondered if he should just go to the Headmaster, Hermione, or even Snape and simply rat Blaise out. Any one of the three wouldn't allow him to take an obscure serum unnecessarily.

Harry realized that he'd never put himself at risk like this before. Sure, he'd done some pretty dangerous things, but those were all involving Voldemort or some great evil.

What was this for? Research? It seemed rather idiotic. But as Blaise walked into the door of the Room of Requirement, carefully carting along with her a large cauldron, Harry whipped out his wand and muttered Thirst Charm.

Even as he completed Phase 1 of his plan, a part of him couldn't really explain why he was going through with it.

Once she set down the cauldron on a low table in the center of the room, Blaise immediately started coughing. After a moment she stopped and looked at Harry as she pondered her sudden thirst.

Confused for a moment, Blaise rubbed at her throat, and then shook her head. There would be absolutely no reason for Potter to cast a Thirst Charm on her.

If he didn't want to take the serum the logical thing would have been to tell Dumbledore, get her into a mess of trouble, and then perhaps get a new partner (or in this case it would have to be group as the entire class was perfectly paired) to work with.

But, for some reason Potter hadn't done any of that. Blaise had expected it, prepared her excuses and tensed every time she came anywhere near Dumbledore, but nothing had ever happened.

For some unknown reason Potter was actually agreeing to take it.

Blaise was too thrilled by the opportunity to observe the serum in action to think much more on his motives. It was probably another display of the famed Gryffindor bravery, lion's pride and all that.

"Glass," the girl rasped out speaking to the room itself which had provided Blaise with some kind of goblet to pour the serum into.

Two glasses appeared in the place of the goblet and Blaise looked at Potter with a frown.

"Hey," the Gryffindor muttered casually, "it's common courtesy not to make me drink alone and plus you seem to be dying of thirst, Zabini."

Instantly a sink appeared in the corner of the room behind Blaise and as Harry walked toward it, he scooped up one of the glasses presumably to pour Blaise a glass of water.

The Slytherin was carefully measuring out the right amount of the serum which was a surprisingly appealing shade of greenish blue. It would have looked like some kind of fruit juice had it not been for its thickness.

Lifting the glass as to see exactly what line of measurement on the cup the bottom of the meniscus of the serum touched, Blaise wondered if Potter had remembered to tell his friends that he'd be out for a good long while working on his project.

The last thing she needed was Granger bursting in during the middle of the four hours Potter was going to be under the effects of the serum, shrieking about how he'd been kidnapped.

She'd explained to Potter that he had to take at least four hours worth of serum as it was made for operations and the ingredients don't work properly in the body unless taken in decently sized amounts.

She opened her mouth to ask Potter exactly what was taking him so long with her water when he approached from behind and handed it to her. Blaise raised the glass to her lips, but stopped when Potter went digging around in his bag and pulled out his note book a quill and some ink.

A bit annoyed, Blaise set down her glass, went to her bag and pulled out a quill, ink, and parchment of her own.

When Blaise returned to her seat on one of the chairs near the table with the cauldron on it she noticed that Harry was holding the glass of the serum and carefully looking into it with a frown.

As she picked up her own glass, the Gryffindor was startled out of his thoughts and they raised their glasses at the same time.

Desperate to quench her almost painful thirst she drank the whole glass down quickly, finishing before Harry.

Immediately after she set the glass down she blinked very slowly. When she opened her eyes, Harry could see a mixture of somewhat dulled anger and disappointment in them.

Vaguely he wondered, as he simultaneously watched her fall asleep and finished his glass of the serum, if she was disappointed in him or herself.

* * *

"Bright blue Sleeping Potion, plus clear water, plus a very well executed masking spell equals what looks like a harmless glass of water. Well done, Harry," Professor Dumbledore muttered quietly as he watched the Gryffindor finish slurping down his glass of Chirurgia Serum. 

"If he knew he was going to knock her out, then why did he take the serum?" Mad-Eye Moody asked the Headmaster gruffly. "Seems pretty pointless."

"Remember, Alastor," Dumbledore said with a patient smile, "Harry prefers to take on danger alone. It seems he finds them easier to control when he only has himself to worry about. As Harry obviously managed to make it past this night we're viewing, perhaps he had the right idea in incapacitating Ms. Zabini. We shall see."

"The right idea?" Snape fumed. "The little idiot has taken out of the picture the only person who knew he was taking the serum. If the situation were to have gone wrong he would have had no one to get help and no one to assist him. He just did perhaps the one thing that would make taking the serum about 5 times more dangerous. He's eliminated any form of assistance."

"Well, let's not forget who it was who decided that he take the serum, Snape," Moody garbled menacingly, "Do you really think she was only going to observe him? You don't think she would have been tempted to do more than just watch him when she could… test him perhaps?"

"Just because a person is tempted by an idea does not mean that they would carry through on it, Moody," Snape responded in an icy and quiet voice.

Tonks appeared to be getting nervous as she listened to the conversation around her. Professor McGonagall put an arm on the Auror's shoulder as Professor Dumbledore silenced the two arguing men.

"It will be alright, Nymphadora," the Professor said softly, taking a leaf out of the Headmaster's book and daring to call the Auror by her first name.

"The good thing about watching the memories like this is that we already know that Mr. Potter gets out of this situation alive and relatively unharmed. We just have to see how he manages it."

All Tonks could do was nod as she stared unblinkingly at Harry.

* * *

End Chapter 6 

_Last modified- May 15th_

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_Author's Notes:_ The chapter was a bit shorter than usual, I know, but I had to end there in order to do the 'Harry under the Chirurgia Serum' scene the way I want to. I'm quite looking forward to it. 

Oh and the line "When was the last time you ate?... You know food?" came from "A Beautiful Mind". I love that movie, those of you who recognized it know what I'm talking about. It's amazing. I'm in love with Charles Herman. :)

Until next time.  
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